I'm sick.
So now I can disprove the theory that things can't go from bad to worse.
I hate Sundays more than I hate Mondays. I even hate the way it sounds...like the whisper of a murderer.
And the picture - for those of you who care - is of 'The Sundays' the band. Their name alone has made sure they fail...well I think so anyway.

I hope you know it's time for me to fade,
So don't be sad when tomorrow I've gone away,
You know I'd love to stay...
But it's just too hard for me to try,
I'm so scared that life will pass me by.
Hoping that you,
Will see me soon,
But if you don't,
Then please remember I'll never stop loving you.


On a lighter note I have an absolutely pathetic joke that I will jot down before I forget.
"A highway (freeway, bypass etc) went into a bar (just nod and smile at this point in time) and asked the bartender for a beer. The bartender got him his beer, and as he was sipping it, a piece of tarmac (spelling?) came through the door. The highway leapt up from its seat, and jumped behind the bar. The bartender was surprised, and looked down at the highway, and asked, 'what are you scared of? you have four lanes, thousands of cars travelling on you, and that is just a small piece of tarmac...?' 'Oh, haven't you heard', whispered the highway, 'he's a cyclepath'"

Ah...I think I stuffed it up somewhere. Mum tells it better...oh well I'm glad I don't have the ambition of being a comedian.