Sometimes I honestly have no idea what to blog about. And today is one of those days. How I’ve kept this up for nearly two years boggles the mind. So here I am sitting in my lounge, the gloom of a British spring slowly darkening the skies and I am at a loss as to what to type. In order for there to be something to blog about I generally have to be doing something that could by considered “interesting” or at the very least, be the tangential spin-off from some writing that I’ve been doing. And recently? Well I’ve been doing precious little of either recently
So with little else to say I will tell you what I did this weekend. I bought milk.
I bought 6 pints of semi-skimmed cow lactate, ensconced within two polymeric shells, one holding 4 pints and the other holding 2. It was raining. Not too heavy, nor too light. Barely strong enough to warrant the raising of my hood. My quest for white gold completed, I returned to my tower of solitude and proceeded to eat a cheese sandwich (with pickle no less.) Then I lost myself in the noble and ancient art of shooting things on the internet. A task with which I have gained great proficiency. As I stride out onto the computerised battlefield whole races quake and cower at my name. For I am become death, the pwner of worlds.
Perhaps this is not the best use of my time. I would be inclined to agree, were it not for the fact that I know you’re just jealous of my milk.