I have a headache. I'm at work. It's nearly 2 pm, which is not late enough for me. I hope something lucrative happens. As it stands I've sold $30 worth of merchandise this month, which is just not going to cut it in the dog eat dog world of black market organ surgery.
More time for old people. Nope they didn't want to buy anything. The just wanted to gaze at the phones and see if they could make out the numbers.
They looked at the Siemiens C56 and said, "Oh they make them small now don't they."
I just nodded, hoping that I wasn't a silent partner in any deviant behaviour that they might be planning. Hip hop came on the iPod. I remembered Chris Wilson-Smith phoning me last night, inviting me to the Ferret and Ferkin Pub for a drink. I had to decline as the pub was in Toronto and I was across Canada in Kelowna.
My head hurts and I want to sleep until they make the kid from Malcom in the Middle President of the United States or America. Which kid? It doesn't matter, I'll awaken for any of them.