July 30, 2003 :: 2:53 a.m.
the bad kind of super fly
My computer has gone insane. Some evil force is conspiring to keep me from being amused by online crossword puzzles, and in my quest to defeat said evil force I think I severely fucked something up. Only I don't exactly know how, because while I am indeed well versed in the art of breaking things, I generally don't fare to well when faced with putting them back together again. I could probably manage it if I had all the king's horses and all the king's men, but that selfish bastard has them washing his car instead. Tomorrow I shall request help from my conveniently computer-savvy honey bear, and all will hopefully return to normal.
We have flies the size of quarters in my house. I believe we may be unknowingly hosting a new and terrifying breeding program, designed to bring forth a race of super flies with the strength and intelligence to overtake mankind and regain the lost glory of the flies. Or maybe my family just insists on leaving every door in the house open. Either way, things are getting scary.
Giles is going to the vet tomorrow, to have his paw looked at. It's swollen up a bit in the past few days, and his limp isn't decreasing at all, so it's time to bring in a medical professional. This is good. We need to get him back to full strength soon or I'm going to start carrying him around the house in a little basket. And while that may, in theory, sound cute, in reality it's just crazy talk. He doesn't much like to be picked up, anyway.
I need to go to bed. I'm ungodly tired and I'd like to wake up sometime before noon, so... yes. Off to sleep. 'Night.
back & forth
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