as Bec is laid up with some dreaded lurgy that befell me last week, as work consumes all my energy, as the incubus compels me to be horizontal at any opportunity, Glamorouse has suffered.
I have nothing particularly enlightening, humorous or deep to comment on as at this point in time, my state of mind is exhaustion.
But… if you want to know how to piss me off really easily, its writing, and then reproducing articles like this one. It seems appropriate the author’s name is Ablow, as he can ablow his thoughts up his own arse as far as I’m concerned.
Month: August 2005
That man…
whoever he may be, deserves every unfortunate, blood on his hands type incident, coming his way.
So wrong. So very very wrong.
What’s worse than getting your information from the peel-off strip on a sanitary pad?
Being told one of the strange-but-true facts you’ve read on the peel-off strip … by a man.
True story.
Freaked me out.
There’s a rule about not going through the bathroom bin, right?
By the way, NOT the Professor.
mtc
Bec
when a foodie goes bad…
rock bottom has arrived.
Heartburn has driven me to hurl too many times in the last week.
Tonight, for dinner, I ate two slices of Burgen rye with one slice of ham and… deep breath… Masterfoods Corn Relish.
What’s worse. It tasted so very very good.
Boanthropy and other perplexing questions
I’m wondering how to explain my sudden explosion of quirky facts and general knowledge of staggering uselessness when it has come largely from the plastic protector of the sticky-part off sanitary pads…
Today’s useless brain filler:
Boanthropy: a disease in which a person thinks they’re an ox.