2002-12-11 - 6:47 p.m.

Oooh, sneaking in by the skin of her pearly whites:

From Gentry: I'm dying to know what exactly went wrong with your salivary gland that you had to have it removed. Did you ask if you could keep it in a jar? Why/why not? And for the general public, what colour, size, and shape was the aforementioned errant gland.

Well, it turns out I had saliosomethingitis, as opposed to rampant salivary gland cancer, which is fine by me. I didn�t think to keep it in a jar, so any future replacement would have to be cloned from my DNA. They can grow an ear on a mouse. I hear they�re using Llamas for salivary glands. I thought it best we went our separate ways, I often try to imagine where it is now. Heading up the A&R department of a major record company, perhaps. Never having seen the blighter, I�m hazy on the physical details, though I imagine him to be like the inside of an oyster, but with a more sarcastic tone of voice.

(from yesterday, for Pinktricity) You know, my school years were very low key. I was at a rough Catholic school in the north of England, where the school motto was �Keep Your Head Down� in Latin, the crest a gold embroidered figure of a first former having his head thrust down the toilet by a thirteen year old that shaved. You didn�t want to draw attention to yourself as severe beatings were doled out by the less socially inclined pupils for being too tall / sarcastic / brown-haired. Sixth-form college was less violent, but had more nuns, so the atmosphere was much the same, and the most dangerous thing I did was contemplate going onto Seminary, though I always had my doubts about the child molestation practical exam. University was the usual �ditch god and spend three years in a liver-searing haze of booze, ill-advised sexual encounters and seminars on Chomsky�s theory of a Universal Grammar�. Yeah, I was mad, bad and dangerous to, er, copy class notes off. Gotta love that repressed upbringing.

I really should start making up for that sometime.