Life is a test and I get bad marks

Dates mean nothing to me these days, as hours and minutes are indistinguishable, just another tooth on the cog of the clock counting down to the day I have the courage to tell you I love you, probably in unison with my very last mortal breath….


Nah I don’t feel like that, I just haven’t written emotastically, in my journal, avoiding caffeinated hallucinations in a coffee merchant, for a while. I’m extremely behind on my blog, and all things of suspicious circumstance. Work is getting better, feel like I’m achieving. My weekends are pretty full in the next few weeks, what with the liver suicide that is Dublin, to the liver cremation that is the 31st of January. I can only assume by then I will have fixed the entire system at work, and will take voluntary redundancy with a huge fat pay packet. Win for Tom once more.

Tonight I’m meeting my recruitment agent for a beer. No one on this plane of existence knows why. But it sure beats not drinking beer. Can I get a “Boo Ya”? No really. I lost my last one during the great storm of 2012. That time when I time travelled. To the future. And Things.

Brand New blow my brain. Stand back C#, your caffeinated emo son has arrived to take over…

That’s what she said.


General Ramblings and Observations by Tom of Earth: a cryptic emotionally-driven look into the life of times of the infamous sock wearer, gadget-whore, unintentional blasphemer, hypocrite, servant of Xenu, Pastafarian, absurdist and thantophobic...without me, its just aweso

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