If I was a chick, you'd email me.
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ah, warm afernoons.
Its yet another bank holiday over here in England. Because of that, there's no work today. I was gonna go in and do a little hijinks on the work network, but for some reason the people who run the building keep locking the bottom deadbolt on the door (which is the THIRD lock on that door) and I cannot find a guy that can make a working copy of that key. I know. That being said, I made the decision to spend the afternoon with il Monsegnior at his local Starbucks adn getting amped up on coffee until we switch over to drinking pints. Maybe some food will be involved. undecided at this time. Why decided on the sarbucks? It's in Belsize Park. So? You say. While at the Starbucks, i composed a little poem: oh, Starrbucks. being a smartass, Il Momnsignior felt the need to do literary criticism.
************* Ladies and genglemen, my friends. I have no idea what "trope" means, and "frame narrative"? Dude, you're just making shit up to sound smart, but I know better. You want some haiku? Chew on this:
slowly healing heart Yeah, I'm a sensitive poet type. Its a rough life, but I manage.
After readng these, Il Monsignior just said: Slap out. 30 May 05 [ semi-permalink ] |
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all original writing and graphics, unless otherwise noted, Copyright © 1997-2012 Webstuff by SlappyJack. All Rights Reserved Your Mom told you not to steal, so piss off. slappyjack.com - Est. /* 15 June (current ver: 5.0) */ ?> 1998 [ GeoURL | Legal ] [ Bullshit RSS | FanList | SpamList ] |
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