September 2, 2009

Damn

As dictated by Faranza Syns

My memory card lost all its data.

All my work, all applications, all e-books.

My fault, maybe.

But I'll go on a techno rage and break down, anyways.

Curb-stomp. Curb-stomping would be my idea of a helluva good time, right about now.

Gad, this is NOT happening to me. And on an exam week, too.

I feel juvenile. Really.



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What are little boys made of?
Snips and snails, and puppy-dogs' tails,
That's what little boys are made of.

What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice, and everything nice,
That's what little girls are made of.



Gee, puppy-dogs' tails. Somehow my mind is conjuring a wholly inappropriate image.

And I have a sudden hankering to buy baby stuff. God help me.



You kissed me, and I cried,
So I guess I can't blame the weather.

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