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[24 May 2008|02:05am] |
Leicester City parted company today with manager Ian Holloway. This makes me sad, because although I have no particular interest in this club, I liked Ian, because he was a genuinely funny guy, and often eschewed the oft assumed position of managers, which is to say nothing of interest, often. He is a loveable sharp tack.
So, in tribute, I did this. Don't bother looking for it now, it'll be gone. It's obviously false information.
But for just a moment, I am god. I am the arbitor of everything. I have decided who is manager of Leicester City Football Club. And it is Gene Wilder. Because I said so.
I am a cheeky naughty Phylly.
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[24 May 2008|11:07am] |
My boys is falling apart. It does not do my mind justice. My mind is sharp, pure, and strong. My body is a wilting flower. There are weeds everywhere, growing in the cracks of my skin. I have had a cough for nearly a fortnight. I literally have been coughing myself awake. My back still hurts. the crack in my right index finger has been joined by a new crack on my right index finger.
And that awful post nasal drip appears to be back. I think that's all the drinking and acid. I've been so lazy with drinking. It's almost just become a habit again. I really should break it.
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[24 May 2008|03:44pm] |
Today's not too bad so far. I've noticed however that i've put on a bit of weight. Not that much, i'm still a lean bastard, but enough to notice. I must do something about that. One of the things I do like about myself is my slender figure. I shall not lose it now!
Tonight is incredibly busy, so I doubt I shall get out of there until at least eleven. Bah. If Rebecca does show her face tonight, i'll be damned if i'll have any time to do anything about it. Sexy fucking tosser, she is.
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