greetings from the future

I just forgot my password for my Blogger account and had to reset it. How bad is that. I did that thing where you sternly purge your computer of all cookies, passwords and history and it has completely fucked me. I have a memory like a sieve.

I have the dogs this week and the Black Dog is lying stretched out against me, closest to the heater. This would be a lot nicer if he would stop farting. I couldn’t identify the smell but luckily for me they come at regular intervals, like the trams. I am pleased to share with you that they smell like blue cheese. Whoever has been feeding my dog blue cheese must STOP RIGHT NOW because it is noxious. He likes any kind of cheese, it doesn’t have to be blue, believe me.

I am also watching Australian Idol, so my ears are subjected to similar indignities as my nose. Look, I can’t sing. I know this and yet I sing anyway, but — and this is the crucial part — never in front of an audience or a TV camera. I know my limits.

Other reasons I’ve been away: my mum & sister were here for Shopping Frenzy 07. My credit card is still hiding at the back of my wallet, whimpering brokenly. Richard Branson can now afford another plane, thanks to me. Or a space station, I forget what he’s into now.

OHMYGOD DOG STOP IT. I would whack him but it will only force it out faster.

Representative of both the flames at Crown @ Southbank and the dog’s digestive system.

3 comments to greetings from the future

  • Do you have any rooms that need the wall paper peeled … perhaps you could lock black dog in there a while – heh.

  • My cat and I shared a house with a dog for a while, and the dog used to knock off any remnants of the catfood. That certainly caused some very noxious dog farts. Surprisingly the cat never punished us with fishy farts, only the dog.

  • The flame is a face, look at the right side, it’s in profile. And there’s a smaller face near the centre, belonging to a kneeling figure in a white gown, and holding flowers, I think. Sorry, but it’s late, or early, doesn’t matter.

"Make a remark," said the Red Queen: "Its ridiculous to leave all conversation to the pudding!"

 

 

 

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