Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.

 

Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").



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   leftover wine
Tuesday, May 13 2003
While helping with the cleanup after the party, my friend Nathan discovered that someone had put some of the wine in the freezer in the garage, evidently mistaking it for a conventional refrigerator. It had frozen and some of the corks had been pushed out. Everybody thought the wine had been ruined, but not me. I took some of it up to my laboratory and drank it recreationally throughout the day. It improved my mood, though my mood was in no need of improvement. Everything seemed more pleasant - particularly the whole kicking back and taking stock of my life thing. Unfortunately, though, now I had trouble with motivation. There were all these things that I'd been putting off until after the wedding and it seemed I was in no hurry to get started on them. I wondered if this was really the wine or was it the manifestation of some of those laziness genes I'd seen swirling in the other triangulations into my genome.
In the evening Katie came over and we had another meal of leftovers, this one kicked up a notch with the help of some overlooked bottles of Shiraz Cabernet. We still had plenty of ravioli leftover from the party, and I was showing no signs of getting sick of it yet.

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