Gnarrgh.
Bunnies. Fluffy bunnies.
Goddammit--why isn't there a 12-step programme for giving up passive-aggression? Specifically, that form of passive aggression which involves going off into one on your weblog about something someone said on a message board.
Miniature goats. Teeny little miniature goats, the ones that only come up to your knees.
I used to do that all the time, but I've been sober from it for about a year (I think), because I realised just how hurtful (not to mention bloody irritating) it can be.
Tapirs! Yay for tapirs! Exotic wuffles.
But I am sooo tempted to fall off the wagon right now, because an unwitting finger has poinked one of my buttons. And the worst of it is, I genuinely like the person doing the poinking and would bitterly regret tearing hir a new one.
Kittens. Of course.
I don't know why that makes it harder.
Tiny Shetland pony foals with weebly-woobly legs. Ring-tailed lemurs. Pipistrelles. Hedgehogs. Leeetle baby fox-cubs.
God, I'm so fucking petty.
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
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