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I have a big deck.

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Dec. 2nd, 2008 | 06:44 pm

I was in a jewellery store (I just typed "srot" and it reminded me of "scrotum" (the word, not an actual scrotum)) recently and one of the sales guys spotted my tattoos. He asked what they meant and then showed me a picture of his tattoo. It's a Fu (?) dog and will end up being a half sleeve when it's finished. It made me want to get another tattoo. It also made me realise that I miss myself. For whatever reason, lately, I haven't been doing any of the things that make me happy with myself. And I'm afraid that if I let them go, I'll get lazy (I'm already lazy) and my brain will become permanently glued to the couch in my head that it's currently occupying. So if anyone has any book or music suggestions, they'd be mighty welcome.
On the home front...I have one. I'm nesting. At work we use roll cages and when you get a bundle of 5 empty ones (and I'm not suggesting that any one of us are empty), you join them together using lovely blue straps and then they're "nested". I have Suz, Shadow (the cat), Nin (the fish) and Planty McPlantplant (the plant) in my cosy little bundle. The difference between us and roll cages is that we aren't being sent back to the DC to be ripped apart, loaded up and sent in different directions. I love my bundle.
I'm enjoying work at the moment. I especially like lunch. English is my managers' second language, and when he calls "savouries", "flavouries", I have trouble keeping a straight face. I stepped on a little old lady today. She crept up behind me while I had my head in the freezer and when I stepped back to close the door I stood on the back of her shoe and jammed her in between my back and her trolley. She must have been about 408. I could have popped her spleen. Actually a dairy department would be a good place to shuffle off this mortal coil. Someone could just push you in to the freezer to save you the embarrassment of stinking up the place.
Now I'm off to cut my hair. Wish me luck.

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Comments {3}

Rodney O'Pumpjuice

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from: monkeybumface
date: Dec. 2nd, 2008 10:03 pm (UTC)
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The No.1 reason for me to not have sex with 408 year old women is exactly because of the danger of spleen-popping. After 408 years it's impossible to predict where those organs are lying about. I still suggest James Meek to everyone, even people who would never, ever, ever like him. I bought a book called "The Seven Days of Peter Crumb" on Saturday, by a chap named Jonny Glynn. It's disgusting and terrific.

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Mel

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from: alittletired
date: Dec. 3rd, 2008 10:10 am (UTC)
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You wouldn't be put off by the long wrinkly flaps, sparse grey pubic hair and smell of old urine mixed with lavender talc?

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Rodney O'Pumpjuice

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from: monkeybumface
date: Dec. 3rd, 2008 01:15 pm (UTC)
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If you put it like that, no. Women look the same in the dark, with my eyes closed behind two eyepatches and a blindfold. Isn't that one of Beck's songs?

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