i don't care if the sun don't shine
What kind of tin pot organisation puts a summer party on a monday night? One awoke fully clothed this morning, clutching the remains of a rather dubious looking fried chicken burger (as though there's any other kind). One assumes it's originates from the dodgy shop at the end of the street that one usually holds one's breath whilst passing, in an attempt to avoid greasy stench. One does not feel so much up to the task of licking the boots of those infinitely more privileged than oneself today. One is hungover, grumpy and at the mercy of oddly flavoured regurgitations.
And so it was written by The Brown Pie Piece @ 12:47 pm
2 Constructive Critisisms:
At least you're not a vegetarian. The burger would have represented adultury. But this indiscretion is no excuse for your absence from blogging. We'll forgive you the chicken burger if you promise to write more.
Hurrah! If I really did die alone in my cupboard/room, somebody in Blog-land would notice! ... yet still have no way of notifying the appropriate authorities before an army of rodents had devoured my upper torso... sobering thought.
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