Will any of you sharp visitors throw in a supposition as to which part of my stupid laptop is not working as it should, today?

As you no doubt caught on by now: a glyph crucial at communicating in writing most linguistic constructs of latin origin, is outright missing from this post’s body. That tiny plastic thing on my laptop that usually allows for input of this particular symbol, is constantly snapping out of its spot, foiling all plans to lay my thoughts in a straightforward phrasing without using such unnatural turns of words. My vocabulary has abruptly shrunk to dramatically small proportions. And with it, so has my sanity.

Having no motivation nor skills to commit a full book in this fashion, I shall stop torturing my brain for words, right this instant, and ask you to kindly wait until I fix this quandary for a dispatch of any actual worth.

And thanks go to this guy for unwittingly prompting today’s trifling contribution to this blog.

If you hold back anything, I’ll kill you.
If you bend the truth, or I think you are, I’ll kill you.
If you forget anything, I’ll kill you.

In fact, you’ll have to work very hard to stay alive, Nick.

Do you understand everything I’ve said?

Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you.

Rory the Breaker

I’m deeply sorry that my first post of note in weeks must be about such a pedestrian topic, but I feel it is time to publicly edict certain rules about commenting on this fine piece of thought-challenging writing we call our blog.

Ironically, while strait-laced spam (you know the kind: congratulation on the neatness of your post punctuated by a recommendation for this interesting site about horses playing texas holdem’ with mature grandmas) is no longer an issue, “semi-spam”, or plain non-spam-but-moronic comments have become a real problem. I blame Google, and the thousands clueless imbeciles it washes up on my shores daily.

For the first time in History, it is possible to get a glimpse into the collective IQ of a sizable share of this planet’s population. And trust me: it is rather depressing. Not that I had much doubt left, but this shall go a long way in reenforcing my personal opinion that, as a species, we are frighteningly dumb. How we managed to make it thus far is beyond me… and a strong argument in favour of Intelligent Design theories… I mean, there has to be a God out there. A God that, for some unfathomable reason, is personally attached to the survival of a species who considers “I like cats!!!!11111″ and “u R s0 kewl!!!” to be the best possible use of nigh-boundless, worldwide inter-communication.

Don’t get me started on Google queries.

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I am starting to suspect that the depressingly sturm-und-drangish overtones of my late high-school years’ musical tastes weren’t as much due to post-adolescent hormonal overload as I used to think:

Go to the Bay Area or Tokyo and, on more days than not, shiny sun and cloudless blue skies practically beg you to sit on your patio, beer and joint in hand, listening to some deep house by Miguel Migs or Jenö.

Parisian weather from September to June, on the other hand, leaves you with no other options than sit in a corner of your apartment and entertain thoughts of killing yourself while listening to Saint Etienne’s entire discography.

Granted, last night, particularly its 2-to-6-am part, might not have helped on the freshness factor.

Must stop drinking Irish Coffees and stick to straight whisky from now on.

Does effervescent codeine taste like crap or what?

Having to stomach the incredibly bitter aftertaste nearly offsets the pleasure of absorbing pharmaceutical-grade mind-numbing painkillers.

What’s with French meds and bubbles? Can’t they just make them into tiny little pills you swallow, as the rest of the world does?

Must be the Champagne factor…

〓Tracey〓

Does anybody know why cutting a cake is such a big deal at a wedding? There must be reason from way back in the dim distant past.
〓Tracey〓

Wedding Party @ The Pink Cow.
〓Tracey〓

To file under: News that you should only care about if you are my mom…

I was just communicated by my Man in Japan, the results of the JLPT test Level 3 (yea, not feeling that ambitious at the time)… The one I took back in December of last year…

And it would appear I do indeed speak some Japanese. At least just enough to fool the government officials who passed me.

And to quote some hopelessly optimistic piece of j-pop fluff:

Yatta!!!

I soooo 0wN0rz N1h0|\|Gø!!!11!1

Nick on Macks road bike. @ Roppongi
〓Tracey〓

Top 3 reasons I may be gay:

• 3. That guy from prison break.
• 2. Marcello Mastroianni.
• 1. David Bowie circa 1980.

Top 3 reasons I am probably not:

• 3. Uma Thurman & “Charlotte” Johansson.
• 2. Anaïs Nin.
• 1. Hako’s smile.

@ DRUNK!
〓Tracey〓

Upon seeing samosas on offer at the local Chinese deli, one might be tempted to draw hasty conclusions and stick with more typical Szechuan cuisine…

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Less than a week ago, we were launching our major campaign: “A bullet for every Spammer, a lifetime supply of quality gin for dr Dave“.

We called for your generosity in helping make this dream come true (especially the drinkable part).

The results are in.

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Look out below!!!
〓Tracey〓

2 minutes later!
〓Tracey〓