Tiredness

I am very tired at the moment. Not that I've had particularly long day or anything. I think it must be my new bed. It's too soft and I sleep too long on it and end up tired. Not that I'm at my own house. Funny how often some people find themselves away from home so often. Of course, home is where the heart is. And you're lucky if you can find someone to give your heart to. Of course a heart is always lonely until it's given away, but that is a hard thing to do indeed. Not as much continuity there as I'd have liked. Ah well. I ought to get to bed. Remember:

Life is good, even when it's not(as long as you've got God!)

Guy In Blue Van Merging Without Blinker

So, today I was driving and a guy in a blue van merged on the freeway without a blinker. It was annoying. As he did I said: "Whoah, guy in blue van merging without blinker." It was funny at the time, but not so funny in retrospect. I need to go to bed. It's far too late. And we all know what happens to me when it's late. I can't stop it it's here

STOP! DO NOT KEEP READING IF YOU VALUE YOUR TIME!

I mean, eggplant cheese balls and a totally righteous cow. Then I was like dude check the pressure on your whipped cream. Of course then I went and shot a thingymahoosit over the wall of the palace, and those guards that supposedly never move came after me, and I was all like...

End Transmission

The Usual Pattern

Well, I haven't posted in a while, which is a sad thing. But I'm back now, and hope to be so for a while. I'm only on the third sentence of my new post, and I find I'm in the usual pattern. I haven't got anything to say. I had a great, witty idea earlier, but now I can't for the life of me remember what it was. So I'm stuck here having to improvise something. I shall write a little story for your enjoyment(if you don't enjoy that sort of thing just skip down to the bottom for my closing remarks.):

Once upon a time there was a man named Sven. He lived a happy life, save for the fact that for some reason, everyone thought he was Norwegian, when in fact he was actually a native of Madagascar. He often wondered why in the world his parents had named him Sven, but they were dead, so he couldn't ask him. Then one day someone once again asked him if he was from Norway. It set him over the edge. He donned a suit of chain mail, took up a round shield and an axe, and took the bus downtown to plunder something. He saw a promising knick-knack shop across the street, and starting walking toward it. It was at that moment that he was struck by a gold 1998 Chevy Cavalier moving at 31 MPH. Do to the laws of Physics (sum of forces= Mass x acceleration) he was thrown to the street where he bumped his head. He came around in about five minutes, thinking that he was a harpsichord player named George Grickman who lived on a farm in Kokomo, Indiana. This, of course, solved his name problems. Of course he was shortly arrested for carrying a lethal weapon in public, and was eventually put in the Psyche Ward of a teaching hospital in Omaha. But no one ever thought he was Norwegian ever again. The End.

Well, that went downhill. But what can I say, it's my first day back. I'll see you all next time right here. Actually I'll just write to you and imagine you sitting in front of your computers and reading this. That's all.

New Post

Well, it's hard to say what exactly is happening right now. But things are moving that cannot be undone now. And things are being set in motion. I know I'm on the verge of something big. God is overflowing, and filling my life. Glory be to God! That's all I have to say right now.

Enter March

So, March came into the highlands I call home rather quietly yesterday, with the second nicest day this year(today was nicer). It was quite lamb like. I am now expecting a huge storm on the thirtieth. Because, as they say, March will enter like a lion and leave like a lamb, or enter like a lamb and leave like a lion. Of course, it's only an old wives tale. But who's to say those old wives don't know what they're talking about.

Um, I would sir.

Who are you?

An old husband, sir.

I see.

I wouldn't listen to any of the tales my wife makes, sir. And therefore I'd have to say that my wife doesn't know what she's talking about, at least when she tells tales sir.

Oh. Well, thanks for that I guess.

Any time sir.

A-hem.(nods to the left, hinting the old husband make his exit)

What's that?

What's your name?

Um, Suesssir sir.

Right. Well Suesser. (clears throat and nods again, generating only quizzical looks) Oh, fer crying out loud Suessir, will you get outa here?!