09 December 2004

Lapses of Zanity

      He'd left his poor blog unattended for so long, I stopped checking it: but a casual redrift by Zane's little hole in the wall reminded me why that was a mistake on my part. Did I write "hole in the wall?" I meant "gloryhole."      Go and give him a read and toss him a few responses. Say "that rotten Doctor J told me to." (But be careful about dangling a prepositon in a gloryhole.) The few blogs out there that demonstrate intelligent thought need to be encouraged. But, alas, I'm now officially too damned tired to have an original thought, let alone an intelligent one. After five-odd hours of answering emails, I'm spent. And not in any glorious ways.      So, my evil minions, do my terrible, terrible bidding! Oh, crap, I'm losing it. Not really, but a little hyperbole on a Thursday afternoon is a good thing. It prepares you for Survivor and its current, although rather understandable, obsession with young Eliza's chest. ("I've grown accustomed to her...." Oh, go ahead; sue me for Rexual Harrisonment. And for proving once again the depth of my datedness.) And now, Doctor J's gonna go off and do his impression of a sarcophagus. After all, there are relatives tonight-- and a wedding tomorrow. Oy vey....

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