What to do when one has nothing to say and no draft entries tucked away in a corner? Pull out some of the multitude of useless things rattling around my brain.
I want this car: The Air Car
I love this blog, being a word whore and all: Linguisitc Mystic
Seen on the way home from work yesterday. A sixtyish man sitting in his huge boat of a Lincoln Continental singing Satisfaction at the top of his lungs. I know he’s the right age and all, but it was bizarre seeing this overweight, bald 60-something in his granddaddy car singing to the Stones.
The mutant bamboo on my desk (which I spoke about quite a while back and am too lazy to link to) has been transplanted into a pot of earth. It seems to want to survive. I can’t believe I haven’t killed it yet.
The plant next to it seems to have decided to, as we say in French "Rendre l'âme" (i.e. give up its soul). May it rest in peace.
It's berry season. Strawberry, Cherry, Blueberry... Happy Jazz
God I’m bored.