My hovercraft is full of eels!

[plonq]

Things to do this morning:

Put on pants
Go to work (bleah!)
Drink some coffee.
Put on some music to get that damn "Banana Phone" song out of my head.
Do some work.

Things I forgot to do on the weekend:

I spent almost all day yesterday playing Neverwinter Nights with boinggoat and forgot that I had a computer that I was supposed to fix.  The computer - still unfixed - is sitting in the dining room awaiting my attention.

Depressing item of note:

Yesterday the temperature here was 26 (79F). Tomorrow they're calling for a high of 2 (36F) with rain and/or snow.  Bleah.

Comments

[cwtyger.livejournal.com]

Would I lose a potential friend if I gave in to my silly urge to post the Banana Phone lyrics in a comment? ;)

[plonq.livejournal.com]

No, but the very thought of it has inspired me to recite some Vogon poetry.

"Oh freddled gruntbuggly thy micturations are to me
As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee.
Groop I implore thee my foonting turlingdromes.
And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
see if I don't!"

[duncandahusky.livejournal.com]

Although remember, Vogon poetry is only the third worst in the universe. The worst is that of Paul Neil Milne Johnstone (or possibly Paula Nacy Millstone Jennings):
The dead swans lay in the stagnent pool.
They lay. They rotted. They turned
Around occassionally.
Bits of flesh dropped off them from
Time to time.
And sank into the pool's mire.
They also smelt a great deal.