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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

God almighty. The combination of boredom and heat is making today the actual longest day in the history of time, space and matter. We've been working on the Festival issue of Comedy Lounge all day, both of us ignoring the fact that we're actually being paid, by the hour, to do something else entirely. On my part, that's an easy thing to forget, seeing as how the entirity of my work load today so far has comprised of correcting three minor typos in three letters. Oh yeah. I've got it hard, me.

My Mommy is coming to Edinburgh on Friday, and she will be staying with me on Saturday night, which I'm quite excited about. I'm going to have to go in to extreme Monica Gellar mode today and tomorrow to try and get the flat looking even mildly hygenic, but, strangely, I'm looking forward to that. We're also renting a car, and I'm supposed to be finding somewhere interesting in and around the Edinburgh area to drive to. I'd suggest Glasgow, but that might seem slightly sarcastic.

You know, I could make pithy comments about the loss of Dennis Thatcher, or the loss of Chris Evan's millions, or the loss of lovely Gae from the BB house, but it's too hot and stuffy to bother trying. Some bright spark saw fit last winter to paint the window in this oven office closed, so I'm falling in to a heat-induced coma here. Thank God for Television Without Pity. I'm halfway through the recaps of the first series of Six Foot Under now, having read up on every other television show I've ever seen.

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