Playstation's not here yet. You'd think whoever it is what sold me this thing's bloody well fallen off the face of the earth. Though, I s'pose I ought to be paying closer attention to more important matters, like this impending apocalyptic whatsit. To review the past week...
- Bleedin' shame about old Charlie boy
. More than a trifle conflicted about us leavin' him down there like that. Ought to go back for 'im, though it's not as though I fancy getting shot all to pieces again or what have you.
That Stepford wife was a pretty piece, I must say, machine gun notwithstanding.
- Slightly put out that the fourth floor receptionist found my new valise humourous. Remarked that it doesn't go with my general "look," and that I might do better to acquire a backpack instead. I told her to bugger off and consider not dousing herself in quite so much Love's Baby Soft. Stupid bint.
- Haven't seen Percy
or the grand bitch
in a while. God help me, but I hope he's not developing an unnatural fascination with her just because she's wearin' dear science girl's skin around.
- And may I just say how deeply scary this new chap
is? Can we send him back to the Matrix or whatever ridiculous place he escaped from?
- On a final note, if I hear Harm
prattle on about sodding pink fountains any further, I'm driving nails into my ears.
Current Mood: apathetic