So I walk into my friends and they have done something which somehow upsets me. I don't tell them. We're not that good so they could've done what they did, but we're good enough so that I don't tell them I am upset about them having done it. I am complicated like that.
(note for my stalker: when you get tired of discovering things that you think fit the things that you think you know... well, it would be nice, if you could just stop. How do you say that in German?!)
6 comments:
What passageway is this?
British Museum
Would I, as your non-Deutsche stalker fool, be mistaken in conjecture about the potential relationship as the blog post and Iron Maiden? I already know the answer is obvious, but still had to ask.
Such is the depth of lamacityness. (Amazing how far down the lack of a pineapple will drag one.)
R!, fear not, you are my favourite reader. Your comments are part of my blog, they make it whole. With the use of Websters and all the online resource one can get their hand on.
Glad to be of service! It makes me swell with pride to know I am indeed special. With the remote possibility of T being big enough to kick my ass, I'd hate to inspire any other thing one can get their hand on.
Say, speaking of The Loneliness of The Long Distance Runner...
LOL - I think you have just left a dirty comment... well, since you kinda asked, I do that all the time, but it takes more to be inspired than a faithful (straight?) reader I haven't actually met, even if he has a way with words. *smiles an irresistable smile
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