stinking apologies

have you ever noticed how hard it is to sit behind a bald man and ignore that voice inside your head that tells you to draw a smiley face on the back of his head? self-restraint 1 - voices in my head 0.

this morning london stunk. stunk like the stinkiest thing i've ever stonked. like rotton eggs wrapped in a skunk wearing a suit made of poo. and apparently the smell came from a strong wind blowing the scent of manure from farms in france. that's a stinky wind.

and speaking of stink, my blogging is. sorry. since i last wrote i've seen The Cure play at Wembley Arena (and holy shit they did not stink even a little bit, although seeing our bus hit a pedestrian on the way to the gig did), i've been to yarm (its a cute small town somewhere in the industrial north - just take a right at the second nuclear power plant, past the industrial waste site, and left at the field of burning tyres), seen snow, and probably done some other fun stuff. sounds like the kind of thing i would do.

chag sameach