BurbleChaz

Got up. Went to work. Came home. Went shopping. Had a beer. Blogging. That's really all that happened today.

No matter. This is the BurbleBlog. There shall be burblage. Those looking for meaningful content should point their browsy-things elsewhere right now. Perhaps I could regale you with things that didn't happen.

There was no downpour of archdeacons in Minsk today. The ongoing shortage of administrative clergy in the Ural regions continues. Disruption of ocean-going sea traffic due to the libidinous antics of hippopotami remains almost non-existant. No more interstellar civilisations have staged pitch invasions at the footy than happened last week. Few fans were disappointed.

We didn't go and look at beds. Or fridge-freezers or washing machines. We probably should have done. Tomorrow for sure.

We did do an experiment with the pub. Latest data indicate it is still a damned good pub. More research is required. While starting pint two (the point where the mental competence and confidence lines cross on the graph) I completely failed to do some maths. For a moment the Clay Prize was mine. The Goldbach conjecture was solved in two lines. A couple of slight problems soon emerged. As soon as I described this elegant and beautiful idea to My Dearly Beloved she presented a counter-example. I had proved the conjecture up to six. The rest was surely an exercise in induction. "What about eight?" she asks. My beautiful proof shatters into fragments on the ground. The other issue is that the Goldbach conjecture isn't one of the prizes on offer. Hey ho back to the day job.

The Retail Expert is sitting on the sofa looking at a huge glossy catalogue detailing shopportunities (Hey! New Word! Someone please take it out and shoot it!) I think this may be a sign that I'm going to need to Get Some Opinions. The plain fact is that I'm no good at shopping. I decide I need $OBJECT. I go to $OBJECT_SHOP. I find an appropriate example of $OBJECT and I buy it. Apparently this is Missing The Point. I am just Doing It All Wrong. I am No Fun At All. There is a simple solution: Shopping malls need creches for men. Park your bloke in the ManCreche (I should trademark that) and pick him up when you're shopped out. The only possible issue is that the shopper would have to drive. The bloke does the heavy lifting. A fair divison of effort in my book.

You can all consider this entry to be evidence that interesting events have no effect on the quality of this blog. My tedious drivelling can destroy any content.

[There's a specific thing missing (Quality! Content! I hear from the back rows.) I left it out as an exercise in writing style. Let me know if you can spot what it is.]