ANTHONY CLARKE

does EVERYTHING epic.

Wins, fails, etc.

Went out to get my halloween costume today. Since my original plan didn't go to well, I went with the backup, which will remain a surprise. I got most of it, all I need is a quick ten buck piece which me mum promised to get when she's out tomorrow.

I also grabbed a new shirt, which TARA all of you will see at school tomorrow. Which reminds me, I need to do my laundry. My dresser is empty, the pike is reaching proportions that are pretty damn epic.

Listening to Lux Aeterna now. Give it time, its a great track.

Erm, wow. Not much to blog about today.

Depending on how sane I am today, I may or may not have posted a post about the genius of bowl design. I'm pretty damn sure I did, but then again, I'm pretty damn nuts. Whatever.

In response to this, I think I'll blog about something badly designed.

(give me a moment to run down to the kitchen and play eenie-meenie-minee-moe.)

I did. I found nothing. The panic button has been smashed into the dashboard already, so I whacked the OTHER big red button.

In short, I hope none of you liked Russia.

Meanwhile, my sister found a car. Rather, my mom did, my sister loves it, and my dad is cautious. In short, though, I can see what you're saying.

"But what does this have to do with my favorite manly, rough-around-the-edges action man?"

"Well," I say, from the shadows, mysteriously, having already killed all the terrorists, defused the bomb and saved the hostages, "it means that should my parents come through, I could have my beloved batmoped by the end of the month." (Cue predictable and cliche, yet totally necessary, and oddly brief make out session with the heroine/lover/random female hostage).

(cue explosions.)

(cue ending.)