Journal Entry: Mon Jan 23, 2012, 9:49 PM
There are many different views on the way puffins may feel or not feel that their names too closely resemble that of a well-known baked food item...
...Okay, they're distracted. HEYA. I'm supposed to be writing things and designing things and probably doing other things as well. However, my mind is tired. Also, I've got this load of ridiculous piling up inside of it, and I have to put it somewhere. So, I'm dumping it here so that perhaps others may feast upon it with great brainy delight.
...so that the puffins have the right to, in fact, change their names to Big Billed Fish Warblers or Reginald as needed...
Just making sure. Anyway, I don't really have anything useful to say. This journal post will, in fact, do nothing useful for you. You will gain no wisdom from it. If anything, I'm currently ruining your life by taking away minutes you could be using to do something constructive, like house break a dog. By which I mean, break into a dog's house and see what stuff he's got. You never know, you might even be able to get a five-spot out of it or at least a George and a half or maybe just two Jimmy whistlers.
...but that which really is in a name is indeed letters, not blueberries, as Franklin G. Panana-Ramble had implied...
No, I don't know what Jimmy whistlers are. I just hope it's not something sexual because it sounds like an STD.
...what? Yes, I always write my essays with an N7 border. No, the stuff in the middle are just...footnotes. Or...like abdomen notes, in that case...
I should go.
...and so in the end, all of the puffins stopped burning down the homes of breakfast bakers. All charges were dropped, and everyone, except the now homeless bakers who have since turned to dog house breaking, lived happily ever after. The End.
Listening to: Blink-182.
Reading: The Infernal City.
Playing: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim.
Drinking: Chai tea.