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



guts and garters

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

Wednesday, March 12, 2003

Boys leave. Girls arrive.

Having rid ourselves of boys whose names begin with J (and day-amn, we had a great time), I settled down to collapse for a week. But no, not allowed. Online acquaintance of the fannish variety messages me and says: "Yo, I'm arriving tomorrow." That was yesterday. But hey, should be fun, and I figure it's all karma. When I do my tour of the UK, I hope my fannish friends will put me up.

So, lightning-quick organisation of rendezvous by St. George (saints have so many uses) and now I get to party on down for the rest of the week. I think the Male is just going to collapse, though.

Fascinations of the day:
  • Obvious fake tan. How obvious? Well, she has a tattoo, and obviously the fake tan doesn't go over the tattoo, because there's a little line of not-quite-tan around it. I can't stop staring. She's going to get the wrong idea.
  • That Irish Accent. Still.
  • Students still carrying on about the war, and would it really be that bad if I wrestled the microphone off them as I went past and flushed it down the nearest loo?
  • The State of the Inbox. Not good.

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