Team Murder No Brain No Headache.


The Society For The Preservation Of Shit I Like

I've plugged some weblogs pretty frequently and Note To Myself was high up on the list of the aforementioned mentioned. Unfortunately, Bob lost the space that hosted it so I decided I should indirectly offer him some space to continue to fight the good fight. I'm pretty excited to do something that isn't fueled by too much coffee and directionless malice.

Note To Myself will eventually reside as subdomain of this place (when the DNS scrap heap that fuels this howling wasteland decides to finally cough up the requested goods) but can be found at until then. This post is an evil and pretty blatant ploy to get Bob writing again by not only providing a place for him to say what needs to be said but also to expose that empty and forsaken place (check out the current title) to pressure him into slinging old and new words. I'm pushy.

Catch? Catch?! There is absolutely no catch. Also, free lunch can be found in the cafeteria, in the bear trap. Just ask the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny, they're currently running Human Resources. Did I mention that the health insurance does not cover trapping accidents? Good, good...

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  1. Bastard. :P

    Ok, ok. This weekend, I promise.

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