I'd promised myself I wouldn't blog. This post is a testimony to the fact that it was egg shellical. Maybe it should be testimoney. More on that later. Or not at all. There are some deals that shouldn't be disclosed.
Like the one with myself. But that isn't working anymore, touchwood. Or touch woody. Never touch woody. It's the British equivalent of the American weiner. Good grief, my sense of humour seems to have taken a permanent squatting position.
So a cheer to the pal who paid more in terms of attention. And the double essed techie who got the first glimpse into the spot anyway. But here's to some more irreverence, siphoned memories, untouched woods and copping feels.
Feeling cops is never a good idea.
3 comments:
Your sense of humour is working out.
you know, to be more fit.
you will know better.:D
i know how funny you can be.. am bookmarking this page.. keep writing..
olé
:)
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