Boy Bewildered

First off, I'm sorry so much of my writing has been about Daphney. It's thoroughly ridiculous. I used to refrain from mentioning her, but I decided to just write what was in my mind. And I guess that's her.

Oh well. Also, does anyone know how to update their Blogger profile so that it doesn't give me the same post-number every time? I'm sick of seeing that I've written 103 posts. It's a most unsatisfying number.

Today I played ping pong and mopped and did work at home. I love sports. Anything I can compete at really. The thrill of the muscle-brain sychronisation steadily getting better, and the (simple) pleasure of thwacking the ball. Tock tock tock tock tock tock swish... Damn, missed. It's a journey away from real life at least.

All of my cuddly friends are offline... I just need someone around who's warm. My ideal hugging partner doesn't live anywhere near me. She has huge (perfect) breasts that also feel like radiators. Hugging her is like hugging a hearth made of silk and pillows.

I've had a shower today already, but I think a bath is necessary too. (WTG?? I just spell-checked and it didn't recognise the word 'blogger') I know baths are kinda, y'know... Somewhat whimsical and somewhat like throwing a blanket over your head, but oh well. I love them. If they wanted an image change, someone just needs a Haagen Daaz-style advertising campaign making them all sultry and decadent and stuff. But that would be too easy... Baths are my concession to romanticism (or part of it), and they should stay that way. A shower is so impersonal... Like a love-letter in Comic Sans (except obviously not as sickening... I mean you don't have to break up with someone for liking showers.)

I'm sick of watching uninspired screen names appear on msn. Bye!