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Honestly, the yak was half-shaved before I realised what I was doing. But I can't stop now; think how all its yak-friends would laugh at it.
"For every job that must be done there is an element of fun." But usually, it's quicker to just do the unfun job whilst bitching about it.
"My dear yak. I mean to (s)have you even if it must be burglary."
"Enter the 2010 WebAwards" invites the advert at the top of Gmail this evening. I could probably win that with what I know now, right?
It is not my intention to be fulsome, but I confess that I covet your skull.
Things spiders hate: dewy mornings, sudden gusts of wind, bumblebees, scientists with marijuana, sunbeams at just the wrong angle.
So, carrot cake for dinner. Washed down by a generous white wine spritzer. Let's face it, being a grown-up ROCKS.
OH: "She got to the point where the baby was controlling her brain..."
Dreamt last night that the guys at work had a serious conversation about which #minecraft blocks to use in building a new code repository.
Mosaicing a virtual self, one tweet at a time. Ravisher of the ear, drinker of the tea.