A word from Mr Long-Winded

Well, I am up to date with the onslaught of work I've had over the past two weeks. Perhaps the more disturbing portion of this saga is that I have spent one day of each of the last two weekends at the Melbourne Uni liberry. I've been accused/awarded/nominated a nerd many times this year, but I still liked to think that there was an element of James Bond about me. That every comic I buy or blog I comment on is tempered by the hard liquor at arms reach and the revolver that nestles against my lower back. I smoke, I drink, I even went diligently through my suburban drug-taking rebellion. I'm fucking hardcore and don't anyone forget it. Word.

I've been accused this evening of trying to make myself inches taller by not having my hair cut. I take blatant offense at such a suggestion and if said dissenting voice wants to come and cut my hair then she should do so rather than making infammatory remarks about the state of one's bird nest. There is no way to win. If I've learnt anything this year it's that women cannot be beaten. The "logic" they use is impenetrable. It's by far the better to sit back in a bubble of superiority and rightness than to engage an enemy that refuses to be beaten by virtue of having access to malekind's one true weakness. Unfortunately for them I'm now undefeatable. For the next year, said Achilles Heel will be the shield which protects my fragile heart. So bring it on boisterous harpies! Do your worst!!

There's something nice about making less and less sense as you go on.