sanemagazine: wonderful rubbish

We apologise for the lateness of the hour.
Once, I was young, once vibrant, alert, caring, all that sort of stuff you might want in alarm clock. I climbed the hills, sailed the seas, traversed the long, boring stretches of land, whither none but the bravest and myself would dare travel, not finding a petrol station to save my Life, though they've rarely, to be honest, ever had to save my Life.
I had a good appetite for danger, and a healthy regard for minding getting my lungs caught in a blender (the things you worry about generally being a product of the times and/or advertising, though this one I would be more than happy to take full blame for as a problem of my own, all to my own).

I liked to live slightly near the edge, with a good view of the traffic in the morning, but far enough out that the boss wouldn't come looking if I kept claiming my car had broken down for the third morning in a row, I was pinned to the bed by a rather large spicy gum drop, and three funny-looking monkeys were looking at me funny. They were all very good times.
Alas, we all grow up.

disclaimer:
Any damage done to furniture, house plants, or turtleneck sweaters whilst reading this article or in the immediate aftermath (even and especially if the aftermath comes about after having a wooly mammoth-like creature come bursting through your front door, which may or not have something to do with you not cleaning your sink out of the dirty dishes, ever), is more than likely not our fault, and in fact we're more than happy to blame a suite of third party at-faulters whom we've partnered with in our long and varied history, during the course of which we may or may not have incurred the wrath/blame of quite a few notable people.

It must also be noted that I've been working on this without my glasses, and have been unable to recognise 35% of the characters I've typed, and spent a good twenty minutes typing into the formerly delightful green melon that was previously sitting, unmolested, next to my desk.


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				Ein Heldenlieben
		archives horoscopes contacts fables home		We apologise for the lateness of the hour. Once, I was young, once vibrant, alert, caring, all that sort of stuff you might want in alarm clock. I climbed the hills, sailed the seas, traversed the long, boring stretches of land, whither none but the bravest and myself would dare travel, not finding a petrol station to save my Life, though they've rarely, to be honest, ever had to save my Life. I had a good appetite for danger, and a healthy regard for minding getting my lungs caught in a blender (the things you worry about generally being a product of the times and/or advertising, though this one I would be more than happy to take full blame for as a problem of my own, all to my own). I liked to live slightly near the edge, with a good view of the traffic in the morning, but far enough out that the boss wouldn't come looking if I kept claiming my car had broken down for the third morning in a row, I was pinned to the bed by a rather large spicy gum drop, and three funny-looking monkeys were looking at me funny. They were all very good times. Alas, we all grow up. disclaimer: Any damage done to furniture, house plants, or turtleneck sweaters whilst reading this article or in the immediate aftermath (even and especially if the aftermath comes about after having a wooly mammoth-like creature come bursting through your front door, which may or not have something to do with you not cleaning your sink out of the dirty dishes, ever), is more than likely not our fault, and in fact we're more than happy to blame a suite of third party at-faulters whom we've partnered with in our long and varied history, during the course of which we may or may not have incurred the wrath/blame of quite a few notable people. It must also be noted that I've been working on this without my glasses, and have been unable to recognise 35% of the characters I've typed, and spent a good twenty minutes typing into the formerly delightful green melon that was previously sitting, unmolested, next to my desk.

Ein Heldenlieben