Good lord. You just can't get enough, can you. I'm not allowed to take a little break? I have to slave over this boiling hot keyboard all day long draining my poor brain of its genius just to satisfy your insatiable gluttony for brilliant insights into the ways of the world? You're shameless. I've been busy, see? Can you handle that? Always yammering at me with your demands and pleading eyes. And no sense of gratitude at all. It's sickening. Busy. Busy, I say. I've been busy. My broad manly chest is covered with dried plaster and sawdust. I'm not allowed to have a life?
So maybe I'll post something later tonight, or tomorrow. If I feel like it. If you're lucky. But here's an idea, sport. How about hoisting your finger over to the scroll bar and going through all the effort of looking into the archives? Too much to handle? Not new enough for you? What I write is timeless, ages like a mellow amontillado. So rich, so flavorful. You just don't know how lucky you are to have me. That's all.
J
2 comments:
What? Can't you see that I'm mentally preparing my next response to our SUV debate? Don't you know the points that you come up with in the half-life of Ununoctium, it takes me weeks! Be patient!
;)
Oh I'm so over that. You actually *think* about this stuff? For my part, I have a *life* -- rich, full, rewarding. How I pity all you pathetic losers. Oh, pardon me, that's the phone. One of my many hot chick girlfriends no doubt.
Lates.
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