Don't think I don't love you...

I've just been a bit busy lately. That phoney-baloney degree I was taking is almost through, so there's a couple of thousand words I need to get written. And then there's the other editing/re-writing/layout thing I agreed to do which also needs doing.

Which is to say nothing of all that beer that's not going to drink itself, you know.

But since I figure I ought to make some gesture towards your amusement, why don't you try a little of Rose & Camelia. While the game is simple enough, the introduction is worth a look just for the phrase "Such is the genteel art of face-slapping, passed down from antiquity through generations of blueblood women."

Talk to you later, eh?

Generation gap? Try Snake River Canyon-style crevasse...

Somehow, while I've been grappling with the difficulties of writing like a guy from 1870, my Dad (who has witnessed the ages of Jet, Space, Atomic, Information (both e- and i-) and Aquarius) has somehow become a Skype-using, Blackberry-owning, mobile-SMS-text-emailer.

Seriously, while I was trying (unsuccessfully) to work out whether it was more appropriate for a Victorian dude to say "Japanner" or "Nipponese", my dad was accurately using neologisms like "RU" and "O&O" and "STFU, my lamerz son, B4 you get pwned!"

Okay, maybe the last one was a joke, but not by much. Seriously, what the hell happened to me?