barnacles can't fly

Before I begin a tale of something able to be made into a tale, I'd like to inform you that when I started writing this, I had no title. That's right, there is... was no title. Fascinating I know, but think about how oblivious you were to that fact before I told you about two lines ago. Imagine all the articles, stories and movies you've seen that might have been naked (without a title) until the very end! Why am I telling you? Because I'm in denial - a state of mourning. See, just yesterday I parted with something that's been a part of me for a long time. I shaved me goatee. Please, no sympathy, I'm coping with the fresh new babyface look. Alright I'm not. I want my goatee back. I have to wait for the descendants of the previous hair to come through strong and proud of their ancestry, taking up the throne on my chin with honour.

Thing is, that's not all of my woes. The tin of Milo is almost half-empty, and while you philosophy junkies will argue that it could be half-full and I shouldn't be so pessimistic, I still say it's half-empty. It's Milo, and it's draining away, there is no hope. Well, except that it's a big tin.

I know, it's terrible. But I will push through these hard times with a smile, because I found my socks. Both pairs in fact. Ever noticed how exciting it is when you find missing articles of clothing? Maybe not when you find a suspicious pair of underwear that isn't yours, but you know. Unless you're unfortunate enough to witness the terror that flaps in the night, that is XXXXL panties on a clothesline, you shouldn't have a problem with clothing-related nightmares. Or monkey-related nightmares for that matter. Lets face it, monkeys can't be trusted. And they go hand in hand with large underwear.

In other, unrelated news, it's father's day today. Or was, depending when you read this, I suppose. Even so, I got him some beer glasses. I was considering making appointments with various medical proffessionals, but decided against it because the glasses were easier and I can use them at some point. More than once. In one night. Enough said with short sentences.

So, while the world slips further into chaos, I am shaven and losing Milo. Booya!
Until next time, assuming I don't get crushed under a comet - something I'm very paranoid about, can't be too careful. Oh, the title has now been added and, like the titles of some songs, completely irrelevant to what it's... titling.