Before I hit the newswire with fart jokes, I did one or two articles on my own.

Here's one. Go read it or not and bump it. Or not. Whatev's.

What for lunch, what for lunch. Really it's a good question. I'm filling my unemployed time with inane thoughts such as that. Trolling round these parts and others. Drinking at lunch. Farting about on dating sites. Smoking, scratching, picking. The usual.

I had loco moco yesterday for lunch. Rice with hamburg steaks, an egg, and gravy. It sounded so good in theory, but the place that made them sucked arse. Premade patties, bland gravy, mushy rice, overcooked egg. Blargh. I need to just make it myself and say fuck the police.

No new dates, no new interests. Bummer because the lady attention would be nice, but I'm ok with it. The physical would be nice to find though, which is my polite way of saying I'd like to find a nice girl to make a call on my bone-a-phone. Not a priority though, but a luxury. Like fur toilet paper or gold underwear.