Tranquil?

So. Guess where I'm at? You'll never guess... I mean, it's not like I'm always here when I write...

Anyway, so... Uhm. Nothing has happened lately. Not even a little. It's been about as exciting as a "Home shopping" marathon on Tv.

You know. The one where Chuck Norris tries to sell you a Total Gym, an egg pealer, some bizare tool for cutting tomatoes into the shape of the virgin Mary, in case you should ever have guests that would find such a thing appropriate. And possibly, if you werent paying attention, another Total Gym.

Life has, in other words, been entirely uneventful. I guess this is what my mates life must be like, everyday now. He's one o' them blokes, who lookes like he's the chairman of the Golf/Yacht/Squash/Cricket/Tennis club and owns a rather large and expensive boat, down the harbour...

Unfortunately for him¹ he doesn't. He did however move to some obscure out of the way location with his girl friend, and has begun using phrases like "our poppel tree is in bloom" and "Guest room". Terms that, as far as I'm concerned, should only be used by people who are my, or someone elses, parents. It's the kind of place, where people come and knock on your door, and inform you that your grass doesn't live up to the neighbourhood standards, and should be looked after and, preferably, should possibly be a bit greener². The kind of place, you only live in, if you're obscenely rich, or would like to appear that way. It has "No riding" signs on the pavements, as everyone apparently has a horse, and only really has a name, because Cartographers tend to feel ashamed if they leave very large areas on their maps, with nothing written on it.

Why they then choose to give it names no one can even pronounce, is an entirely different form of science in itself. One that, as far as I'm aware, involves lot's of star charts, an old out-dated dictionary, and what I can only assume to be a rather solid diet of coffee and sleep deprivation.

Having said that, I shall now endevour to do nothing at all, and go read a Gamereactor mag' while getting paid for it...

What are you going to do with your sunday?

Cheers'
- The Bedlamite


¹ And us. A yacht would be wicked for the summer.
² These people actually exist. I know, it's like being told the Tooth Fairy is real!