Death comes for us all (a melodramatic haiku of retirement)
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no longer where it is at.
Onwards! (Back to home.)



guts and garters

It's all fun and games until someone loses molecular cohesion.

Friday, October 19, 2001

3B Sign last night. My party, as I gaily told someone at some stage, clutching one of the ubiquitous VB longnecks (bloody awful stuff, but it's tradition, so what can you do?) and harranguing people into signing the sheet on the wall.

You know, now that I've got the comments thing (which, I'm sorry, seems to make the page take longer to load) I have some urge to say dazzlingly clever things in every post so that people will comment.

But there's not much that's dazzling or intelligent about the Sign. We fill the bath full of ice and the aforementioned beer. You get one, you drink it, you peel off the label and stick it to the wall (more difficult since the cheap bastards cut down on their glue) and grab a pen to sign the sheet. You have another beer, and write derisive comments next to other people's signings. You have some Mystery Punch (a true mystery, even to me who made it, but a wonderful, tasty batch nonetheless) and proceed to mosh with pen on the sheet, creating some tres artistique scribblings.

And then you clean the place up so that the principal can't have a hissyfit at you. Ha ha bloody ha.

So how was everyone else's Thursday night?

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