Oy. That was one butt ugly supernasty rainy day commute. Left the office at 5pm - got home with Emmett at 8:15.
'Bring On The Night'
Spike's Bitches 22: You've got Angel breath
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Gah. After a certain hour, I lose the ability to concentrate on all this potassium channel business. I can't form coherent sentences. I get a couple good hours of work done in the morning, and then it feels like I don't get anywhere. Gah. Gah gah gah. Why can't I do this?
Why can't I do this?
Because it's after a certain hour.
If I get tired or I go too long without food, I can't concentrate on programming. Sometimes going for a walk helps. It's bad to be on your ass for great lengths of time.
eta:
Because it's after a certain hour.
Gotta watch out for those certain hours.
Certain hours and certain women.
I feel a hard-boiled detective story coming on. It's a noirish kind of night.
Gotta watch out for those certain hours.
Personally, my issue is with the UnCertain hours. "Is it 2am? I can't see.. Fuckkkkk. No, the alarm is going to go off in ten minutes. Shit."
It's bad to be on your ass for great lengths of time.
Most days do have breaks, I guess, where I go out for a seminar or something. But then I come back and I have to get started again, and the energy's gone. I really thrive on capitalizing on my groove, cause when I lose it, man, it's gone.
Certain hours and certain women.
Yeah. Why'd I have to go and get a new crush now, huh?
Personally, my issue is with the UnCertain hours. "Is it 2am? I can't see.. Fuckkkkk. No, the alarm is going to go off in ten minutes. Shit."
OK, I'm with you there. The uncertain hours should be beaten with sticks.
I really thrive on capitalizing on my groove,
You should have a t-shirt that says this.
Certain hours and certain women.
I feel a hard-boiled detective story coming on. It's a noirish kind of night.
It was late, and my secretary had long since gone home. But me, I was in no hurry to leave, because the only companion waiting in my dank apartment was the constant drip of the faucet that the super could never seem to fix. And then in walked a dame with a pair of gams that were illegal in 13 states. Fixing her bottle-green eyes on mine, she stalked over to my desk, opened her heart-shaped mouth, and said "I need your help! You see...."