Friday, April 04, 2003

Good grief, it's past midnight.
Why am I still here?
(Here = the charming facility known as "work", where the only thing that distinguishes me from the surrounding piles of paper and general crapulousness is that sometimes I move.
Animators have the uncanny ability to blend into their surroundings - only a twitching motion can give us away.)

That still doesn't answer why I am here.
It could be because I longed to listen to a-ha CDs (and doesn't everyone? :D )
But no.
Maybe I wanted to surf the net.
But I could do that at home.
TV? No.

Media coverage
overly dramatised

I really should have been working, but I couldn't stop myself from procrastinating instead on the above topic - that is the summary of over an hour's worth of long winded pointless writing.

Guilt, thy name is Guineapig
Your eyebrows do assail me
Your arms don't work
Your footsteps jerk
Will I finish? Maybe.

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