Wednesday, November 10, 2004

The loneliness of the long-distance punner

I have nothing to declare but my genius and a few soft apples which may or may not be harbouring fruit-fly. Also known as drosophilia, which sounds like a nice name for a girl if you're so inclined.

Well, it's 11:09 pm and I still have 500 words to write before the quota monkey gets off my back and takes a quick nap until 12:00 am when he gets up and flings faeces once more at my tiny screen. Curse you quota monkey, why can't you be more like those freaking bonobos?

Yes, this is a nanowrimo post. My word count stands at 18 222 (believe me, I know because I hit that word count function more often than I press the space bar.)

On the good news front, I rediscovered Andy's CD from the great Canberra blogger CD swap. It was in the car, not in the stolen bag. Yay! It really is a fine compilation. Pulp's 'Babies' may be one of the finest tracks written by a skinny Englishman with bad teeth (and there are plenty of those).

OK, quota monkey, we do one more round. This time you my bitch.





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