Sads, cracking of them.
I had a fun day at work today. I also saw Andy's new building, which is PURTY. I would hate to work there, because it's PURTY like a huge IKEA catalogue. But yeah. Still, purty.

I keep feeling like I have the things I read in the Ryan report chewing at the back of my head. It's unbareable. Yes, these two lines seem to have no connect. That's sort of how it feels.

I finished sort of a major project today, I just have to clean it up some tomorrow and it'll be set.

Andy's super excited about his new blog. I am too. I want him to be super famous. And he's so funny and clever.

I'm currently worried as fuck about Andy's friend from school (best mate at our wedding, after Andy's best mate decided to stay fucking about in China). I've been reading posts of his and they're making me... I don't know. That feeling you get when you're like... there's something wrong here.

To cheer myself up, I would like to entertain you with a little slice of NEW ZILLUND.

Here, they call meth, P.

Do you find that funny?

No?

Then think about the reports on the news that we get.

Man caught for hoarding P.
Drug baron sold P to children.
Police have found a lot of P in the houses of [district]

This is as totally AWESOME as when we flew in to England back in 1999 or something and my very reserved uncle was showing us around the city in his car and the only news on EVERY RADIO STATION was about a guy who'd walked into a church stark naked with a samurai sword.