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April 22, 2010
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Some food for thought, or as STECOL would say, thought for food, which reminds me:

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I haven't eaten yet today.  Why is it when you eat breakfast, you get hungry faster, but when you skip it, lunch sounds grosser and grosser?  My guess is that it's like opening the flood gates, something to do with tantric yoga and taoism.

My cats are 12 pounds each, tops.  I am a buck 85.  Why does one cat, Lola in particular, shit, more often and with greater girth than my spasm chasm could ever muster to fathom, every single time?  My guess is that it's because she eats ten times more than me relative to her body mass, which might also help to explain a 12 pound cat?

Why and how is it, that my former associate/work-procurer is a middle-aged, re-married, Jewish, republican, pothead, Architect, who doesn't "get" craigslist and pays a guy to show him how to add an attachment to every email, all the while attempting to bill out my part of any given contract for 200% of my cut, pre-twenty-percent-tax, when literally all he does is press a rubber stamp to my work?  This one is actually easy; the universe loves me and wants to make it as quick and painless of a decision as possible for me to quit every job I have ever and/or ever will have.

Why...don't I end it here for now?  Well, because I will... that's enough y for one try, check back soon and stop asking so many questions that you already know the answers to, yes you!

here's one, for a BLORGdotOrg T- shirt: what percentage of y s in this post are at the end of a word?  (hint: if you have to calculate it, you've already lost.  Why?  Well that, my friends, is another one of those questions again, isn't it...

spase.  BLORG.  Retoided.

(and don't tell me I missed one, I am aware, like a Native American weaving, it's lack of perfection signifies something like innate mediocritie.)


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