Lazy git

Now, I wouldn't want it said that I am inordinately lazy, but the kitchen is two whole flights of stairs away; I have a sink up here in The Tower, a spare kettle and multiple power points.

I am musing over the possibilities of purchasing one of these for £14.99 for my late night beverage needs...

Argos. Marvellous place.

Lazy git

Now, I wouldn't want it said that I am inordinately lazy, but the kitchen is two whole flights of stairs away; I have a sink up here in The Tower, a spare kettle and multiple power points.

I am musing over the possibilities of purchasing one of these for £14.99 for my late night beverage needs...

Argos. Marvellous place.

(no subject)

As the day creeps on across the globe, it is becoming apparent that many people I know, both on my LJ friends list and in person either had a poor night's sleep or experienced odd dreams (or both). Even DT sans LJ was wandering around like the living dead this morning, before the customary restorative coffee.

I, however, slept like the dead; nary a dream for Bryan.

Tonight, pax_draconis is advocating the mass-consumption of strong cheese in an attempt to tap into the "collective unconscious" (aka The House of Lords). I surmise that should enough people take part in the experiment, we may end up with a global recreation of the Midwich Cuckoos, which begs the observation that until the mutant monkey hoards are fully trained and equipped, there is no-one we can use as an effective police force whilst the blue cheese tendrils loosen their grip on the populus.

For myself, whilst generally an enthusiastic participant in la vie fromageoise, I feel that such a bold experiment requires someone to stand back and record objectively precisely how matters proceed, and whether, like the Omega Man I shall find myself all alone in the world come dawn. So, tonight there will be no cheese for Bryan. Instead I shall Mulder the media for any references to fortean fromagerie.

Of course, it may be nothing to do with cheese at all. Maybe it's all the effects of the orbital mind control lasers… Eat your cheese, then. But wear the tin foil beanie, too..

Keep your 'lectric eye on me babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love
Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah!

(no subject)

As the day creeps on across the globe, it is becoming apparent that many people I know, both on my LJ friends list and in person either had a poor night's sleep or experienced odd dreams (or both). Even DT sans LJ was wandering around like the living dead this morning, before the customary restorative coffee.

I, however, slept like the dead; nary a dream for Bryan.

Tonight, pax_draconis is advocating the mass-consumption of strong cheese in an attempt to tap into the "collective unconscious" (aka The House of Lords). I surmise that should enough people take part in the experiment, we may end up with a global recreation of the Midwich Cuckoos, which begs the observation that until the mutant monkey hoards are fully trained and equipped, there is no-one we can use as an effective police force whilst the blue cheese tendrils loosen their grip on the populus.

For myself, whilst generally an enthusiastic participant in la vie fromageoise, I feel that such a bold experiment requires someone to stand back and record objectively precisely how matters proceed, and whether, like the Omega Man I shall find myself all alone in the world come dawn. So, tonight there will be no cheese for Bryan. Instead I shall Mulder the media for any references to fortean fromagerie.

Of course, it may be nothing to do with cheese at all. Maybe it's all the effects of the orbital mind control lasers… Eat your cheese, then. But wear the tin foil beanie, too..

Keep your 'lectric eye on me babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love
Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah!