The rest of the weekend... The time of year, indeed, the summation of my years, has rolled around, and now it is time for me to truly act half my age, and be sixteen all over again.
Oh the angst! Oh the pain! Oh the lovely man who I glanced at but once, and we are surely going to get together although he knows it not... and it didn't happen, now I cry myself to sleep every night and write in notebooks about how everything is meaningless except for that which I discover to be meaningful, and all that self-beration, flagellation, libation, 'ation, 'ation.
The next thing you know, I'm over it, because I have my posters of A-ha (80's teen!). And the guy behind the counter at the bookstore, is so, like, oh he could so be a music god! So like, "like so"!
You know how teenage things afflict us. And now I am definitly in my Thirnage years, I can let you all in on a secret - it doesn't change a bit. At least, not for me. (okay, so the A-ha posters have been replaced with one solitary Viggo poster, but hey! *snicker*)

Had a good time surrounded by loonies of excellent quality. Ate lots, and grew so enormous that I started going to the gym for the first time ever. Not helped by the presence of cake and a delicious rack of lamb as cooked by my number one kitchen dominatrix of the cakemix Ms Shabnam (although the Cake this time was assembled by the lovely lady Lynskey).
Food is your friend, and it loves your tummy and wants to get inside and keep warm (And who can blame it, because the weather is oh so cold here right now!).

I went and bought a little green notebook.
Used to keep a diary once, when I was half my age (less, even!), but if one blogs... well, you know. I think it would have been more expedient to buy a big green empty folder instead, and print out my blog at the end of the year or something.

How long will a blog last for? Will people of the distant future uncover blogs written a hundred or double that years ago, and go "wow, that was life back then?"... Is that why I blog?..
Why does a monkey hit keys? Why do people with pencils make squiggles? Why do we ask such vague nonentities of questions? Because we can.

Or maybe, in th8 Nl8tnd er4 of txt, they w0nt b abl 2 read such RKik stff NEmore.
(Although I perfonally hope for a fhakefperian return, with the s that looks like an f.)

Yay oh happy-birthday-that-was!
It sure is cold weather.
I have a lot of cheese left over.
And bread.
Cheese sandwiches this week!
The penguins are delighted about a change from fish.

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