There's no sense in it

I see heads hunkered down, fingers dancing across keyboards and the stench of boredom strikes my nose...I must be at work.

However, I can regail my dear readers of tales of gross inanity - hanging out with geriatrics at a confusing bar in Clayton; implicit racism, submission, torment and fiery redheads at Cho Gao in the city; and my personal favorite, running my low-rent media empire while wearing my trackpants.

All fantastical stories which would require a savage censorship before I even contemplated putting finger to keyboard.

Oh, and now I've spilled my glass of water across my desk. The most exciting thing to have happened to me today.