I haven’t been able to get a crappy advent calendar again this year due to a stupid illness that has left me with a face off of George Romero’s prop department, blinding headaches, the inability to look at computer screen for more than 10 minutes and bowel movements that can best be described as vociferous.
It looks like year will be more hasty tat thrown together at the last second. I’m working under the assumption that rock stars write their best stuff on drugs and that as I’m on five prescription drugs the gold will just flow out. I’m not sure Lennon wrote “I am the walrus” clutching his head and pebble-dashing the toilet. Still, I never shacked up with Yoko Ono, swings and roundabouts.
Today’s (yesterdays technically) advent treat was supposed to be a drawing but it was shocking bad as were the next six or so. You’ll just have to make do with this rambling nonsense instead.
I’m off to bed now and I’ve just eaten a cashew nut. What sort of drug crazed loon eats a slow release energy food just before bedtime?