every day feels like sunday

Y’know the cognitive psychologists like to compare brains to computers and I don’t know that it’s such a fantastic idea but at the moment I got some serious malfunctions. Ninety per cent of my head is doing nothing – it’s not doing the homewerk and it’s not coming up with anything cleverclox for here either.
Actually, after two odd incidents today the thought entered that my head is leaking thoughts. Everyone, I’m sure, gets those moments where you’ll meet someone who will say something so highly appropriate that you get paranoid thinking that they are a mind reader. But what I’m talking about is way more – a serious, open-for-all hole. You know what I’m going to write next eh…

I’ve been farting an awful lot lately.

Here is a word-guide of for how to be speakin’ da Jamaican Mon. I heard that link on the radio.

I’ve completely lost the ability to do small talk. I’m continually presented with these situations where I could lean across the bus aisle and say, “sooo, Holden Racin’ Team fan are ya? Not doin’ too well this year are they?” — but I don’t and haven’t done for way too long and now I can’t. It’s getting to that time of year where you can say, “cold enough for ya?” too.

&&&***&&&

I only mention this because I’ve put the boot into them for every other attempt, but the bloodyvolvodriver ad campaign finally did an interesting one — everyone in it has beards including the women and kids and there’s doesn’t seem to be any reason for it. As they say in finland, niceypoo.

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