Much earlier in the day I was happily working on a post, when, without any warning, a real flesh and blood type bursts upon my coziness and with an unmitigated gall, plops himself down and actually expects me to act like a human being and talk to him. So I did. Anyhoo, when I went back to finish the post, it read like an epileptic fit. Of course, this is all Bane's fault. He judges(gasp!) the writing itself, whereas, I, as in gifting, had the idea that it was the thought that counts - what one is trying to convey, not the manner in which it is conveyed. Now, I'm self-conscious about every frickin word I put down. I may have to resort to the Stoli to get over this... In the meanwhile, I submit to you t-shirt slogans, some which bring to mind a few of you out there. You know who you are.
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