U2 NGs continue to be amusing

Would just like to note the subject line 'Bono is a klutz' makes me v. v. happy every time I see it, even though the conversation has strayed waaaay off-topic by now. Sighage. I seem to have been attacked by Nat's Bono-goes-BOOM bunny. Hm.

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Look at this site. Look at the navigation bar at the top. Notice how there's a Bono/Edge picture right above 'rumours'. I am highly amused.

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Once I get this stupid newletter out, which should be within the next hour and a half, I'mna work on my website. Need to redo the /self section, and add my work desktops, and harem people, and stuff.

Ahem. Self, work.

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To paraphrase a quote: Why didn't anybody tell me Mama said was such a thunk-y song?!?

Eeesh. Shouldn't've listened to it at work. Am mush now.

Yay!

Done. Finally. And way earlier than I'd dare hope for. Now, to tidy up all the loose ends I've been letting slip in finances et al ...

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Have just noticed my AIM has been disconnected for a while now. Fuckers! What is with this thing lately?

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Have just been complimented by TBL about how fast am putting out the newsletters. [Today's being an exception.] Am grinning like asshole now. I rawketh!

Q!

That's a sick idea. I love it!
(Steve; MSM)

I do not exist to feed you. Mimph!
(Steve; MSM)

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Have sudden urge to draw. Aaaaargh! Inspiration ... Must have inspiration ...

This is bad news. It means I won't be writing until this drawing kick is through with. Grar. Wouldn't be so bad if i knew how to draw. I suck so very badly.

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M. is still irrationally afraid of teabags. Coworkers. I swear.

Booooya!

Twelve entries babe-ay! Record. Yeah. Home now.

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Just tried to enter 'metallica' as my username. Graaarrrr. Stupid brain.

So, Quills. Was v.v. good. Joaquin in priest garb. Grrrrrrowl. That image is going to be with me for a looong time. Urk, sensing imminent development of unhealty fixation here. Moving on ... Ack, no, brain, no Kirk-in-priest-garb images! And Jason, stop looking corruptible!

Bluddy 'ell. Muses. I tells ya.

Speaking of which, I've come to the conclusion I am unable to resist drummers. Lars, Larry, Paul, all of them. Fuckers. And then there was B., although he wasn't a drummer yet at that time. Still. Fuckers.

I have twisted my knee -- to accompany my twisted mind, I guess -- stepping off the train. Owieeee ...