I should be cleaning my room right now. And yet here I am, in front of the computer...I have no idea what I want to write about, but it beats hanging up clothes.
Maybe I'll just start typing at random...what's that theory? That three monkeys, typing into infinity, will eventually write Hamlet? Something like that.
"Bedsocks, knockwurst, Tinkerbell!" - "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" - "Stuckelschwantz!"
...Sorry. Got a bit carried away. (50 points to anyone who knows where all that came from, though.)
Okay! My roomie just told me she's gonna go tan, so I'm going to go with her, and that'll get me out of cleaning for an hour or so. Maybe I'll carry on with the randomness later.
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