In order to save me some time when blogging, I downloaded this cool little app thingie. I will now upload an image of utter seriousness to see if this thing works, as well as tag this post in a few random categories. I’d appreciate your feedback of my awesomeness soonest.

Cats are being picked up on Sunday, btw. Awwwww. I’m going to be so bleak without the little shits.

Also, I have 4 up-coming late nights and I’m shitting meself. I’m old(ish) you know… I can’t be doing these things anymore.

Okay. ‘Till later. Luff you.

I’m a pickerer.  I pick at everything.  Loose hairs, skin, scabs, fluff on shirts, other people’s persons, you name it, I pick at it.  My face is usually in a bad state because I’ll find one tiny little mark and pick, pick, pick until its an angry mountain of shame shining off my chin.

At the check in counter on Friday evening, the stupid woman accused me of being pregnant because I walked up to her with my bag covering my tummy.  She instantly killed my flying mojo and I found myself sucking in my tummy until I touched down in Durban an hour later.

I beat my brothers by sixty points at 10pin bowling.  Sure, one of them has been shot in the brain before and the other was about a millionty seven beers in, but I beat them fair and square.