The Shattered Prayer

Well, I woke up this morning when my ‘cup runneth over’ if you know what I mean. When I speak of ‘cup’, I’m talking about my moon cup. I have a habit of waking up seconds before a real mess is made, which is - for a change - a good habit to have.

Quiet day at the ole Shattered Prayer. Banterless, and nigh on postless, had I not decided to fling this post up at the last minute. And even this post is but a whisper of nothingness in the great cyber-sea.

Okay, so I ran across this article yesterday and I thought I’d share it, because I laughed till I cried…..

…and cried….

…and cried….

….then I locked myself in a closet and practiced self-mutilation, because you know, its one of those things you really have to practice to get right.

R the P dislikes the color orange. He says its a bad color. Compared it to Limahl. No, R the P, the color orange is far superior to Limahl. Lets examine the color orange, shall we?

That long weekend was kinda hellish. If hell was really really dull and boring.

I’m not sure how weekends are different from any other day to me. I do the same thing on weekends that I do on weekdays. I read tarot, write, try to make some dosh.

It was just too tempting. Had to try my mother’s oxygen today. That stuff’s not bad - nice little buzz to it. Bit of headache on the downside though.

Well Bea just walked across my computer keyboard and opened up my blog-editor, which I guess is a gentle hint to blog. Or maybe not so gentle. Her fat ass isn’t too gentle on the keyboard, that’s certain.

What is it with weird dreams lately.

Donism #327: “I used to work in a bluclose factory. You know, that there Gatorade has bluclose in it…”

I needed to go to the PO this morning to mail some stuff, and my mother didn’t want to go, “Look at my hair!” she said, “Its a mess - what if we’re in an wreck?”

Now this is a woman who doesn’t wear a seatbelt.