Livinghigh

Living HIGH

It doesn't take hydrogen gas. Or riding a shuttle.
Or snorting on the whitest, finest powder this side of La-la-land.
(It might take an extra spoonful of sugar, but maybe that's just me.)

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Tuesday, May 04, 2004

Get Thee to a Nunnery!...

I'd like to meet a drunk nun some day. Precisely, the drunk nun who scribbles in comments to my blog sometimes, however infrequently. There was a comment from her (I presume it's a 'her') today after a long hiatus. What can i say? Welcome back, drunk nun.

Can you pass the vodka, please?

***

I'm waiting for my copy of The Word - Convocation Issue to reach me. I'm an egoist at heart - I'm waiting to see my story of the encounter at LIC up in print. Something I can tell my grandchildren of perhaps - see kids, gramps was not always an armchair journalist who developed sciatica after sitting on the same computer chair day in and day out, learning about futures and options (!) from mealy-mouthed analysts, interviewed by CNBC, who never learnt how to speak with their damn mouths open...!

I'm waiting for my pay check, so that I can say that being an armchair journalist with sciatica after sitting on the same computer chair day in and day out, and learning about futures and options (!) from mealy-mouthed analysts, interviewed by CNBC, who never learnt how to speak with their damn mouths open pays a lot... as compared to your friendly neighbourhood rag picker, that is.

I'm not really that bitter. It's just a taste developed to perfection from all the cough syrup.

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