One is sporting short hair as of today and ‘twould appear that One’s entire brain power has drained away along with One’s lustrous locks.
WHAT A FECKING WASTE OF A DAY
Well, except for three eps of Breaking Bad, which One has almost finished.
WHAT THE FECK IS ONE GOING TO DO WITH THE REST OF ONE’S LIFE?
First, having volunteered as a knitter for Coldharbour Mill’s Yarn Storm (or Bomb, One can never remember which) One was unable to print the fecking pattern off the computer as the bastard was ‘refusing’ to talk to the printer.
These things were all so easily remedied when One was enslaved by Vile Ex Husband and had Boy on tap. Now, as a poor defenceless Atilla the Honey, all on One’s lonesome (apart from the beer swilling Wood Nymph, Fokkit) One has to attempt to solve all One’s technical issues Oneself, fer feck’s sake!
Any road up, the V ex H is accommodating (on the other end of a phone) and talked One through it.
AND ONE FIXED THE FECKER ONESELF
ONE HAS NO NEED OF A GREAT STREAK OF SMELLY SOCK (AND PANTS) WEARING LUMMOX ABOUT THE LAIR – HA!
Then, One biffed off to ‘The Jewel of Somerset’ for a print of one of One’s attractive big cocks, for which One has an order.
Forgot to take the disc.
WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH ONE?