Here's a picture of Steve, and his mate, Archibald.
Aaaaaahahaha. Shem.
Sunday, 2 June 2013
I was doing really well. Started working before 7am, very productive, very good, and then... the sun came out. So, I stopped. I went for a long walk, up and over the hill to Portofino for some tea. I walked back and decided to treat myself and buy some fresh seafood from the market for lunch. So, I chose a few prawns and a squiddy thing and asked the guy how much. He wrapped it up, put it in a bag and winked (what does this meeean?). Yeah I totally got it for free. No idea why. Not asking any questions. The only thing is, normally they would clean the squid thing for me, it's all filled with ink and brains and guts and eyes. But, you don't go asking someone who's just given you free stuff to CLEAN it for you, that's just cheeky. So, operation de-nastify the squid. I managed. It was messy, I pulled the little guy apart, eyeball by eyeball, leg by leg, I ripped his brain straight out of his head, I cut his butt off, I tore his lungs out (wait, I don't think he had lungs, no, of course he didn't). It was gruesome. And I felt bad. But he died for a good cause, brave little soldier. His name was Steve.
