Man, oh man, you get out of the habit of airing your dirty laundry on a daily basis, then come back and make the rash promise that not only will all future laundry aired be clean but also and sans holes and color coordinated and then everything that goes down after that is either white cotton tube socks or that Alice in Chains tee-shirt with a rip exactly where your nipple's supposed to go and the cat's gone and pissed all over it...
Meanwhile the network guys keep calling and saying if my Neilsens don't start showing a 30% market share and I can't get something done about the dropoff after the second commercial break, they're going to have to consider going all Herman's Head on my ass...
Something blogworthy did in fact happen today, but I don't wish to elaborate on it, because that would be whingeing, but I do kind of like how I put it to a colleague after I'd ransacked her Kleenex:
I was like Captain Ahab, and I was gunning for Moby Dick, but now I'm Jonah and they're telling me I have to go into the belly of the whale.
Which is not only how much It sucks, but just the aptest description ever of what It is.
Oh, and? I was saying "The cowboy fell down" in Welsh. Not that YOU care.
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