I used to be proud of the fact that I can string proper coherent sentences together without much of a glitch. But then obviously my writing style - if any- does not compare and rival the cutthroat world of journalism - just a thought.
The days are mad, mad, mad.
I have so many useless thoughts rolling around in my mind and I'm just too lazy and tired to churn them into words.
That makes me so mad and so sad. I'm smad.
Hmm.. smad. Has a nice ring to it yea?
I think Whiskey is a nice name for a dog.
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