It’s been pretty busy at the office. Not busy enough, apparently. There are moves afoot to introduce a new clock-in system for the peons. I saw this brochure on my boss’s desk:
Should I be worried?
After a long and bitter fight against entropy, my scooter finally died.
I’d consulted some of the top specialists in the business, but they said that even drastic intervention would only be postponing the inevitable. They recommended that I simply allow Nature to take its course. It wasn’t an easy decision.
I loved that little clunker. It kept me mobile after my ex got custody of the car in the divorce. It carried on without so much as a murmur of complaint after several painful accidents. It kept me company after several painful break-ups. It will be sorely missed.
Vade in pace, old friend
A reading from the Book of Cayennetology:
…And the mother of Kyknoord’s child did look upon him with disdain. His contentment was as thorn in her buttock and her stomach was twisted with loathing. She swore unto the Void, “I will strike down this abomination and make him writhe” and it was so. Darkness moved upon the face of Kyknoord and he ground his teeth in frustration…
To echo Olivia’s lament in 12th Night – Will it ever be thus?
My ex and I got divorced more than two and half years ago and yet she still manages to find ways to push my buttons. Man! I can’t seem to find the balance in my interaction with her: I’m either too much of a bastard or not enough of one. Kids, don’t try this at home.
In other, happier news: the reunion with Dolce was superbly pornographic. That is all.