Ok, so I do. You're probably just tired of hearing about it. I can understand that.Today's pointless photo is definitely not a current one, but if I'm having a snitless day on the blog that means I can't post anything I've shot within the past couple of days.
I have very little to say at the moment, so this'll probably be short. Just as well, really, since I've literally put my blood into my work today (read that as: I've got a bandage on my index finger, and it's messing up the typing just a tad). Besides, it's Classic Rock Day on the tinny computer speakers, and my two fans know that it's pretty ridiculous to expect much substance out of this brain when it's too busy singing along.
I like to sing along, you know.
It's Bohemian Rhapsody now, in case you want to sing along too.
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I was reading the freaks this morning because that's what I do on Wednesdays (and WE HAVE WINE GUMS today. I was the one who brought them, but the fact that I broke down and bought wine gums does NOT let someone *coughwheatcough* off the hook at all, oh no) and found them as usual to be freakishly entertaining. They're interesting, the freaks.
One of the interesting things about the more interesting freaks is that they say they all watch the same show and yet they seem to get such different things out of it. Some of the freaks were in full-on Best. Show. Ever. mode, and yet others have called for the ramp so that the shark jumping can commence (have I mentioned yet on the new blog how much I hate the term jump the shark? I do, you know. It's the quickest way to get me to tune you out if you're talking about television).
My favourite freaks, however, insist that you don't call me Shirley.
Yeah, more than a few of you (can two fans technically be a few?) know what I'm on about. For the rest of you I suggest you nod politely and move on.
Just like I'm about to do. I've got an owie on my finger, remember. You're lucky you got this much out of me.
[/martyr to the cause]
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