It's snowing, Hip! Hip! Hurray!!!

I'm off work for a whole week [planed holiday], and I've nothing to do except  pen sweet nothings on the computer. Sweet joy!

Enter the girlfriend [stage left]: "Don't forget to clean the carpet; wash the pots; iron the clothes; put the rubbish out; and don'tt forget to make the bed, now will you! And the bathroom ( Read more... )

I'm at work and in an artistic mood, so I'm playing around with the LJ settings. Yuk! and double Yuk!!

It doesn't matter what I choose it still looks naff.

I'm standing in the company car park. Isn't it ironic that able bodied managers have parked in a location that matches their mental ability: disabled spaces!

Just an observation.

We can make small talk if you want,
take the ripest of words in the vineyard
of our mouth, and like grapes,
sweet and deliciously juicy,
roll them to add flavour to the dialogue.

Or just sit here in the sprawling lobby,
order a drink, light a cigarette,
converse in the twin silence of smoke:
our thoughts rising to the rafters, the hotel room ( Read more... )

I work in Internet security for a well known UK bank. One of my duties is responding to customers who kindly donate copies of scam e-mails they've received. In regards to authenticity, professional grammar and layout the scam below [copied and pasted] is the worst I've ever encountered. Had to share.

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From: ( Read more... )

I awoke this morning to find the village had been visited by a congregation of Fairies. In fact, the whole county had a sprinkling of their dreams. In the hive of the highstreet, once clogged with shoot and soil, it too has had its share. I watch people wonder past, heads bowed, hands burrowed deep in the warmth of pockets, some slipping on the ( Read more... )

 Poetry!!! Two days and six lines. That's how long its taken to write six damned lines. Sometimes, don't you just wish you had a life!

Seducing Lydia

We can make small talk if you want, take the ripest of words in the vineyard of our mouth, and like grapes, sweet and delicious juicy, roll them to add flavour to our dialogue, or just converse in ( Read more... )

Here I am writing like a demon. Well, not quite like a demon, you know, horns and stuff.

Like

I don't like poets,
they are society's repetitive chatter,
the tardy voyeurs of whisper and dull image-
like the old Bakelite phones of yesterday.

Better still, the thick, frayed cord
that stretches from phone to socket ( Read more... )

Zak always rose early in the morning, not that he had anything to do, it was more a question of being bored with sleeping ( Read more... )

What is a God ( Read more... )