google earth is freaking me out. i keep looking over my shoulder in a twitchy way. it’s only when I lower the viewing angle and see the horizon. i get on a plane next week. i hope it’s low res.
quick, stick it in a jiffy bag and squeeze it in the mail server, we’ve got 17,000 ready in the U.S and we’re gonna fire it into a bucket with a small brown elephant and a couple of free t-shirts. there’s one, you see, it’s got it’s winter coat on now and it’s lobbing a sponge in the drip-tray of catastrophe, so let’s fiddle with the wireless a bit and see if we can’t procure an aztec or two to wind up the time portal
only five minutes before we fold over the edges of the world and fob off a pleb or two with withering platitudes that sound vaguely like we’re selling them a holiday in croydon. it’s not what’s there to be coveted that will keep them from sleep tonight but the lead in the one coat that’s lingering around the black hole of steve’s creation. done tomorrow. I’m already scraping off wax and eyeing up the pummice.
0x88EF4CCD4A4D means you are bad and that you should be locked up how dare you take that from mr horse whisperer and lodge it in your fudge rom just because you get office doesn’t mean a thing. you put the kernel in there and so it’s your fault if you tinker for hours when you should have gone to essex for a shower. it would have only taken a few monkeys to give you that answer but you were faffing about with a wireless sponge and flipping aquapets through the catflap until you ran out of disk space. oemkrnl. duh
performing cleanup
is that it? not gonna get all conspiratorial on me now. what did I say?
not even from a google personal search page. there’s something lame going on and there’s not even any references to panel beating or victoria silvstedt. maybe I should proflagrate myself to the call to action. oh, I see. can I just spend the next 4 hours looking for a level 3 agent in eve then? right, but I’ll update the landing page with the availability messaging when we know whether singapore can do it at 6 in the morning so we can spread ourselves over 3 geographies and be transparent about it. and I’ll add all those international dialling codes when I can bothered to look them all up and change them all one by one which doesn’t sound like a big task but you know like I always say its the small changes that end up with seismic repercussions. oh? you test them all then. ah, yes, I knew you would ask about that sales messaging stuff. you see I did that last night while I was on the conference call I was doing while quaffing a white port and donning my smoking jacket its late here you know. and no, we’re not doing #4 anymore, so don’t worry about it. I said.
hang on. oh, there’s a panel beater. excuse me, do you know any good carpenters.
now for all the world to see its an online gawp at the plebian. finally that’ll be mounted onto an incan fertility statue and pointed at the wall whereby you might get interference of the idiot sort in the shape of a couple of oversized cans with a useless boom and a rather sweaty roundhead with it pumping into his cranium. if you really want to you could scrach around for the live version for a less-than-spectacular insight into the world of fat baldies leching over the parapet at students in the property agency after he’s been down the road for the evening news and a bag of McCoys. when you wake up it’ll all be over so make somebody love you while you can. it’s the only decent thing to do now.
quick, fetch me the helicopter, I’m going to crack.
up north there was little to be concerned about except for that mad girl who kept bashing the trees in the garden with long bits of wood who would probably end up working for you one day and slurping all over the UK VP but other than that it was either just working out how to get back from morrisons via hillsborough or off the train and back to hatherly via oxford street without a kebab and a dose of kevin. down here it’s different, although technically I’m back up again. I should be less concerned and just start hoping for a miracle. I can never go 17 times between now and then and so I’ll just have to keep my jacket on and hope that it’s cold which of course it will be but I’ll be inside, locked in a private hell with nice food and carpets. all work and no play.
stumbling haphazardly from an infant garden it struck 11 and I was 900 better off. it ain’t much of deal really but by the time you’d lobbed an unstable crack missile over the lip of the canal the boys were smokin up the highway and boiling the manifold to throb pressure. we squished past the monkey-faced tractor bashers and got all mumble-eyed over the prospect of a tangible vole badgering when out of clacton an anonymous clog portal assembled and we were laying tarmac over the butcher’s block of an enormous forked table. but just then dave came over with 2 faces of hollow lard and so we declared it pretend breathing day and mashed up the ginsters like there was no tomorrow which there probably wasn’t but we didn’t know that yet.
significantly, dave was hanging inches from a stiff neck and had spent the previous night positioning it over a sticky cod where there used to be just fields. with a huge lunatic fragment, he trampled the brittle chaffs of swansea street and without malice was gibbering at the emotional death climax of a mostly necked rat with luminous cheese ears that blew over at random. in a salacious corner, he simply buffered the thing and ate it with a sweat guru. look away then he said as I made a swimming motion into a bucket but it was rather the wanton mastication that drove me to heave up the continent and splash it over the cat valley. we never really gave it much thought after that. between the A17 and the services there’s a small piece of fudge that will never be eaten, but aside from that we’re just the same.
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