Shorter dreams, sweeter dreams.

Woke up embarrassed and didnt know why - until i said "Om nom nom" to my Marco Polo tea, thereby informing the tea that it tasted delicious. Then my dream of two hours yore came flooding back. Conversing with people from uni, the chit chat went a little like this.... "Om nom nom nom om nom om nom om om nom nom nom om nom om nom".

What a stupid dream.

Here have a pictorial of a transportational thingy.

A bus...

Short story excerpt time!

Jon by George Saunders
...And i was so nervous opening it, and even more nervous after opening it, because inside were these weird like marks I could not read, like someone had hooked a pen to the back leg of a bird and said Run little bird, run around this page and i will mail it for you. And the parts i could read were bumming me out even worse, such as she had wrote all sloppenly, Jon a abbot is a cove, a glen, it is something with prayerful guys all the livelong day in silence as they move around they are sure of one thing which is the long-term stability of a product we not only stand behind we run behind since what is wrong with taking a chance even if that chance has horns and hoofs and it is just you and your worst fear in front of ten thousand screaming supporters of your last chance to be the best you can be?
And then thank God it started again looking like the pen on the foot of the running bird.