A brave morning

Up, and it being a brave morning, with a gaily to Woolwich, and there both at the Ropeyarde and the other yarde did much business, and thence to Greenwich to see Mr. Pett and others value the carved work of the “Henrietta” (God knows in an ill manner for the King), and so to Deptford, and there viewed Sir W. Petty’s vessel.... So home, reading all the way a good book, and so home to dinner, and after dinner a lesson on the globes to my wife, and so to my office till 10 or 11 o’clock at night, and so home to supper and to bed.

In bed I tossed and turned all night. I woke several times to find something peculiar. It seemed that I was not in bed at all, but in the back of a stagecoach, speeding down the county road, bumping and sliding in the mud and rain. We travelled all through the night until we reached Staffordshire. Mr. Pett was waiting for me here. He instructed me that it was of grave urgency that I be reprimanded into his custody for the remains of the day. Unwillingly I succumbed to his advances and agreed to the surgery. It was a gruelling experience, but one that left me pondering the meaning of a life such as mine. It seems that I am in fact more suited to living 600 to 1000 meters below the sea's surface. In a place that humans cannot go. For I am Mr. Pennyschmidt. The one and only. I resemble an eel, but am much more like a shark. And so home to supper and to bed.

A life!

You! You're lucky you've got a life! When I was your age we didn't have a life! No! That's where the saying, "Get a life!" came from. The lucky ones who had lives would say to us, the unliving, "Get a life!" It was a real insult, 'cause we had it tough! Oh yes, we did. When you're not alive, you don't exist. And it takes a lot of bloody hard work to do something, anything at all. None of us ever succeeded—we just continued not to be there—but we tried! Oh yes, we bloody tried. You lot, you count yourselves lucky!

—Pancreas, the Unliving

Death by Envelope

I tried to post you all my blob, but it won't fit in the envelope.
It's gelatenous shape and texture does not conform well with the size of the package container.
I tried at least 17 dozen times but it will not fit in.
The woman at the post office was extremely aggitated with me. Really. To the point if lunacy.
I said I was trying to post my blob, and she kept screaming at me.
It was insane.

I was just trying to join in with you all. With your funtime internet parties that I never get invited to.

I really get frustrated with the internet, but this time it is really pissing me off.
I hear about millions of people and thier blobs. It's on the news. It's in movies. It on morning radio for god's sake.
But I have no freaking idea how anyone could post such a messy fucking thing.

Is this fun ?

Thanks for the invite !?!

#@%&

Spleen