Friday, November 19, 2004

...from my cold, dead hands.


lost keys, left work at 11pm last night, couldn't get into flat, slept on rachael's couch (about 1' shorter than me) I had a ridiculous dream that climaxed with me leaping from a speeding car onto a truck carrying a load of empty beer bottles I was pursuing Charlton Heston, who was old but vicious. As I worked my way up the truck, charlton and i threw bottles at eachother, the truck swerving all over the road. Eventually I got close enough for us to fence with plasterer's trowels. last thing i remember was us agreeing to settle matters like gentlemen, with a duel next morning.

I woke to a short couch and the start of the Grand Prix. did 4 hrs overtime today.


Blogger hell said...

ahhh MacEwan... swashbuckling action... great to see... from one beer bottle thrower to another...respect..sleep tight tonight.. no more lose things!

8:57 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Anyone can post a comment here so simon can no longer hide the fact that he knows someone who lives in Canberra, antithesis of macau and Melbourne. Here, there is no traffic and the prostitutes all work together in one regulated suburb amongst the legalised hard-core porn and fire crackers (Fyshwick). In fact entire city is regulated. Here, to sleep on a couch 1’ shorter than you requires putting in a submission accompanied by a minute cleared by a First Assistant Secretary to a working-level task-force chaired by a Deputy Secretary then waiting for a response by COB in two-months time which comes in three months time with a holding notice accompanied by a signed letter on departmental letter head from an acting MP cleared by their adviser. Loving it. Take care & love to the wonderful Rachel.

9:19 AM  
Blogger rhymes with pony said...

i have also been having elaborate and silly dreams. what is rachel doing there? say hi. im tired.

9:16 PM  

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