Flobits

They declared him the horse of the year and showed him on the telly. He had a rough night, didn't sleep that well. Lots of thoughts were roaming through his head and when he was about to finally fall asleep Rochester began to snore his muzzle off, fine for everyone who'd been dreaming already, but not for him. "We'll see the Queen tomorrow, rumours have it", thought Sefton, but he wasn't actually very convinced about that. He looked to his left, a few yards away, and saw Zara, sound asleep. He'd known her for years, they met right after he came from Germany. Memories come rushing up to meet me now... She was Arabian, one of the finest ones, shiny black with a lovely mane, which she wore with great pride. "She's so beautiful", he said to himself for the millionth time, "today must be the day".  He'd have to tell her everything, there's no way out.

A juggler, driving to his next performance, is stopped by the police. "What are those machetes doing in your car?" asks the cop. "I juggle them in my act." "Oh, yeah? Says the doubtful cop. "Let's see you do it.” The juggler gets out and starts tossing and catching the knives. Another man driving by slows down to watch. "Wow" says the passer-by. "I'm glad I quit drinking. Look at the test they're giving now!

A few days ago at work: busy as usual and me trying to get some answers, for which I needed to ask a colleague. The nice guy type, round 50, extremely high education (pre-phd, phd, post phd, highschool, university, phd...), very devoted to his work and always willing to share a piece of his wisdom with the others. So here I am, at his desk,  posing the question, not fully aware that I might not be able to handle the truth. Before I realised what hit me, he went on explaining to me about the Lessing's curves that are involved in the matter (don't look up, you don't want to know what they are). These scientists, sooo excited about their work! Had those curves been a woman they would have been doing it right there on the floor, sending a 200-page Code of Conduct into oblivion.

Airman Smithy was assigned to the army induction center, where he advised new army recruits about their government benefits, especially their GI life insurance policies. It wasn’t long before Captain Brown noticed that Airman Smithy was having a staggeringly high success-rate, selling army life insurance to nearly 100% of the army recruits he advised. Rather than ask about this, the Captain stood in the back of the room and listened to Smithy’ life insurance sales pitch. Smithy explained the basics of the GI life insurance policy to the new army recruits, and then said: “If you have the GI life insurance policy and go into battle and are killed, the government has to pay $200,000 to your beneficiaries. If you don’t have GI life insurance, and you go into battle and get killed, the government only has to pay a maximum of $6,000. Now,” he concluded, “which group of soldiers do you think they are going to send into battle first?”

As a little boy (not that many years ago, thank you very much), I spent most of my summer-and-other-short holidays at my grandparents' place. I'm not going to develop any nostalgic stories of my childhood featuring me getting lost in the near forest or having one of my first cigarettes (at the venerable age of 6), but instead I find it quite intriguing to remember a few peculiar details from that time. Well, in every house like that there are some old shabby books lingering around, with pages torn or undone and fixed back with sellotape, every single female face in the books having a moustache duly drawn with a dark blue pen, despite the constant-but-never-kept promise of my grandma that she'd tell on me to mom. You know, the works.

Oh buoy, eye have scene sew many spelling miss steaks published on internet and eye do knot understand why wood someone knot ewes a spell checker, as it comes four free with the pea sea.  There's know whey ewe wood bee taken buy surprise buy any treacherous words anymore and it dozen take any moor thyme to Finnish what ewe kneed to, as any miss steak is showed strait a weigh.  Weather eye am write ore wrong has know importance,  butt make shore yore frays gets cleaner and error free :)

Hello I've just finished the first task, namely finding a title for this blog. After having wrung my brains to the last cells I finally found the answer, simple and straightforward: ask the missus.    She just took a good look at the me in the morning and, without further ado, for a reason that was abundantly clear, she got it first time right: inside out pyjamas. And as I sat on the couch, sipping at my coffee,  creeping back to life, my nervous system all awry , I realised that I was another one wearing the inside out :) This is what I intend to do with this blog: to take out the inside and share it with the outside. In this spirit of fuzzy commitment, I leave you all to enjoy wearing the inside out ;) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eCzOvgTCNuI