Wisdom Wears Neon Pyjamas

A quick scan of the pigeon holes on my side bar indicates what I write about, the most oft-posted categories as of today being this and this.

And the darn thing does tell you the truth about me.

That I’m full of myself.

And, of course, dark chocolate.

The difference between the Lobster and all the other fish in the sea is that you can never cry quite the same way with anyone else.

I’m late because I had to go back upstairs to get a scrunchy. Imagine being stuck for hours in a siege with hair flying all over the place.

~Me to a bemused Boy last night

…who got here by searching “wisdom wears pyjamas”:

You bet it does.

In all its naked glory, it’d be too hot to handle.

(Ooh, my wisecracks kill me.)

You see, affection is like those blinking computer thingies on the screen. Unless you receive packets, the lights just don’t twinkle.

~Me to the Boy, attempting geekspeak

Sometimes, one can only approach one’s history from some paces away, and prod it gingerly with a stick, turning it over ever so gently, and not go any closer for fear that it will wake up and turn rabid.