Holy FUCK I am so bored over here. I can feel myself becoming less intelligent by the minute. Laying on the floor listening to the rain outside pondering the great questions of life such as:
Who would win in a fight, a weasel, or my toaster (were it a transformer toaster)? And what if the weasel was REALLY angry? I mean, really furious? But even more importantly what sort of political event could have sparked aforementioned weasel-transforming toaster animosity? Weasels don't even eat toast! ...or do they?
Aaaah, the big questions of life.
Someone rescue me. I'm going mental.
Read Martin Amis' London Fields, fantastic. Highly recommended.
Who would win in a fight, a weasel, or my toaster (were it a transformer toaster)? And what if the weasel was REALLY angry? I mean, really furious? But even more importantly what sort of political event could have sparked aforementioned weasel-transforming toaster animosity? Weasels don't even eat toast! ...or do they?
Aaaah, the big questions of life.
Someone rescue me. I'm going mental.
Read Martin Amis' London Fields, fantastic. Highly recommended.



