Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Don't you just hate it when Jude Law breaks into your house? There was a loud crash at three in this morning, and, yep, there he was, Jude Law, standing in my living room, having broken into my house, wearing an impeccable three-piece suit and a novelty tie done up in a knot apparently of his own device, the half-half Windsor. I asked if that would make it a quarter Windsor, but Jude Law said that he no longer believed in fractions, as they were all "liars and brigands". But wouldn't "half" constitute a fraction? No; because half and half make one. I conceded the point, as I couldn't in good conscience call his concoction a full Windsor, nor a half-Windsor, and any arguments for the existence of fractions seemed to agitate him. Surveying the living room, and discovering that nothing seemed amiss, I then inquired as to the cause of the crash that had startled me from my slumber. He then defenestrated himself. Damn it, Jude Law.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Don't you just hate it when Jude Law breaks into your house? This morning, I woke up, and there he was in my kitchen, wearing an open bathrobe and boxer shorts, stirring eggs in a frying pan with a spatula. He wasn't cooking them; the stove wasn't on, and the eggs were still in their shells. He was just pushing them about. Then he saw me, yanked an egg out of the pan, and ran out the door, complaining of a burnt hand. Damn it, Jude Law.