Tuesday, 8 April 2008


To the 8th ... if 29 was the age of dressing down maybe 30 is the age of dressing up - taking appropriate advantage of situations and past zombie film making ventures to make a half decent Joker if I don't say so myself - did result in a hangover and overall fatigue the next day but that's what Sundays are for (at least that's what they used to be for) - and despite having several henchmen on the night I didn't get that bitch Batgirl nor pull off any capers beyond drinking myself into merriment.  The end of the DST meant I got to the place of confidentiality ahead of the workaholics (I'm a workaholic, but, like, for booze) and cruised through the day before cruising on home (with a wet bottom) for what was hoped to be a bike finishing session but turned out to be more of a 'let's see what sexy bicycle parts Yogi has acquired' - slightly better position than when we started.  But not by much.  At least I'm a tennis pro now.

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