Waiting for Godot
No, that isn’t the baby’s official name, but it’s what it feels like when you’re at 39 and a half weeks with 0 to 2 to go. Not that I’m the one feeling it the most, obviously. But it’s been hard to concentrate on much else...
In the absence of any anecdotes that keep the right side of too personal, a brief update on some virtual stuff. I’ve posted some new found things in the past few months, but forgot to mention them here; also a lot of new limericks and some related pages which will only be of interest to OEDILFers (who are all recovering from the Great Crash of ’07 and hoping that the failed hard disk coughs up more than its last breath).
If you’ve been enjoying the animal poem videos, there will be some news on that front shortly. Personally, I’ve been enjoying the hee-larious flames I’ve attracted for daring to post harmless wordplay about South American wildlife on YouTube. First it was “your pathetic”, then it was “wow your a nazi”. At least that makes me a pathetic Nazi, which is the best kind. (Teenagers, eh. Their so cute.)
I’ve been meaning to do some kind of viewing round-up, but the critical urge has left me for the time being. The world is soft and fuzzy and/or made of yellow and green plastic.
