"Sleep no more, McCarnival...."
Goooood, insomnia is really starting to bite. Staying up 'til three surfing science and "weird" sites is sort of fun but now the fatigue hallucinations are starting up. I keep thinking I can hear stuff in my house; couldn't sleep last night because of all the odd little sounds my mind was throwing at me. Woke up this morning absolutely convinced that there were voices in the next room, and I thought I'd left the telly on all night. Nothing. Telly switched off, radio alarm ditto. I have got to learn to chill out...
Sleep Depravation = Techie Inspiration
On the plus side, I had an idea for my one-armed-person's can opener last night.
"Roses are red, violets are blue...."
Oh, and for those of you who are dribbling tears into your double-mocha hazelnut latte with cream, more cream, and extra syrup 'coz you didn't get no ickle red hearts in the post, here. I'll be your valentine. My love for you is as deep as the clingfilm wrapping on the cards you never got, as sweet as the cheap waxy crap that the confectionary industry laughingly calls "chocolate", as enduring as the pink tinfoil wrapped around a heartshaped peice of said cheap crap. Of course I don't know you and would probably hate you if I did, but hey. It's a valentine.
Knock yourself out.
Later that same day...
Hmm. This [Work + minor warning!] is nowhere as good as the haunted painting from a while back. It's damn sloppy work, if you ask me- far fetched and clumsy. The Haunted painting blurb was far more elegant, getting the point across by denying that anything weird had happened, whilst at the same time heavily implying that it had. Man, that still cracks me up. I wish I could get hold of a better image than the ones the sellers posted on ebay- it'd look great on my wall. Or a t-shirt. I can't believe that the only merchandising the "lucky buyer" has come up with is hugely expensive posh reproductions. If it was me, there'd be haunted painting shirts, haunted painting coffee mugs, haunted painting mouse-mats, haunted painting lunch-boxes, you name it. Cheap copies of The Hands Resist Him would hang in every sullen teenager's bedroom next to the knockoff Marilyn Manson posters and skull-print scarves. I'd be minted, mate- minted!