Friday, June 17, 2011


Had a little quarrel with the partner, a size of a squirrel for precision. Sick of my male behavior when dealing with the toilet seat. I found myself ejected podlessly into deep space. Now I'm hoping someone would receive the distress signal from my beacon. My oxygen would last for a few weeks since it is packed using atom-space reduction technology. I also got water running in a bio-recycle system of which I had nightmares about being in a situation where I would drink it. I wait. With my imaginary book "Not allowed to be Happy" and my duderö lamp.

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