I'll do one tomorrow,

I totally will. Just wait until I've had dinner, and hope I'm not playing GTAIV.

I wrote down things to blog about

But I should really be asleep.
I haven't posted in a while because I've been a bit busy. And I don't see myself doing a big one before at least Saturday, so don't get your hopes up.
Oh, also, I feel this picture is missing something. I try not to put unfinished things on here, but I just can't figure out what it needs.
It's a bit of an attempt at the night backdrop in Cave Story.

I really love it when this happens.

Really.I wish I could bring to justice the dastardly beer-shaker that caused my socks to get wet. He would meet an agonising end being shaken to death in a giant bottle.
It's a waste of precious, life-enhancing alcohol, damnit.
I think it's Michael Bublé time.

Don't argue with the bottlecap, Mr Jones

The bottlecap doesn't lie.
The bottlecap never lies.
I've been getting a whole lot of pressure from friends to make a Facebook page. Don't you people understand that I can't be arsed? It'll just be Myspace all over again! I hate Myspace!
Why can't you just email me those wedding photos? Or call to tell me about that party coming up? I'd be content with a text message! Facebook is not the default medium for communication and I don't need one, damnit.

On a completely related note, I've got the photos from Queenscliff on here now, and there are some I'd like to share with you.
Because I'm nice.
This photo was taken on the blues train. A really old train which goes about two kilomtres in one direction and stops to go back again. The four carriages each have a band or solo artist in there with their gear set up playing some songs. It's a really fun time for the audience, The Bedroom Philosopher (photo on right), didn't have a fun time at all. At first he was enjoying it I think, because the train was stationary (See what I did there). But once it started moving, the microphone kept hitting him in the teeth and lips. But he's a quick and funny guy, so it was all in good humour. Until his guitar amp seemed to die, and only the microphone was left working. The first half of our blues train trip was almost completely comedy-music-less. Poor guy.
Once we got to the other station, we swapped over to George Kamikawa's carriage, and he was a fucking champ. The Bedroom Philosopher didn't play blues, or anything at all for the most part, but George is a blues king. He had his slide guitar out, harmonica, acubra, and a beer in his hand. Any time he went to have a sip of it he had everybody shout 'KAMPAI!'. Awesome guy. I just noticed that his photo is at the wrong angle. .. Fix it yourself.
Saturday night was good, the Audreys were the main evening event. The sun was setting right behind us, and at one point was shining right into the eyes of the people on stage. That would have sucked for them, but it made an interesting photo.
You can see on the right there, Nathasha Someoneorother smoking a keyboard on stage.
That's pretty out there.

Saturday night brought Jackson Jackson, who were a whole bunch of fun. I had a dance because none of my friends were there to see me embarass myself.
Sunday morning was Tripod. They did a few jokes that they'd done the day before in the miniature tent, but the setlist was different at least. They were hilarious, unlike when I've seen them on TV. Sunday afternoon was Josh Pyke, who wasn't on for nearly long enough. And given the immense size of the crowd, I was surprised to see him do a request.

I've left heaps out, but I really don't want to type out a novel, so you get the abriged version.
The drive home on Sunday night was much shorter than the drive there on Friday. And far less eventful. On the way home for example, I didn't nearly get crushed by a truck in a merge lane. Good times. Good, terrifying times.

BUH LOGGING

So, this one is just a buh-log. No pictures. Why? I'm feelings CUHRAYZEE! Also I'm drinking. I'm well on my way, folks. Feelin' good.
So the music festival was completely awesome. Plenty to do and see and hear. Awesome bands, awesome fedoras to buy. Lots of stuff. And things.
Good times were had by all!
I'm tell you stories, but I simply can't remember them well engouh. I'll tell you tomorrow.
Also, I'm wicked full. Too much zuchini slice, too many beers, too many doritos.
This is me right now:
Except I have hair. And a dark blueg dressing gown.
Oh, right. No pictures.
Well, whatever. This is my blawg and I'll do what I like. If you don't like it, tell your friends. They might like it.

EDIT:
Question on inside of bottlecap: Where did kilts originate?
No cheating. Post your answer in the comments section. You will get it wrong.

Breakfast constellations

My friend Robbie called me today to tell me about a new star constellation just to the right of the Big Dipper. I have no explanation as to why it's a new constellation, because I'm not an astronomer. Robbie seems to know what's happening up there though, and told me where to find it.
I've outlined it for you so you too, can see ... Bacon.

Ice skating, misleading titles, and everything you need to know about elephants

When I was five or six years old, I thought elephants were twenty metres tall, and blue whales 500 metres long. I still think that'd be completely awesome. Somebody in the genetics field get onto that for me, will you?
With that in mind, I present you with a drawing of a potato.

Bit ordinary, huh? A regular old potato. Not growing a magical stalk into the skies, or piloting a burning helicopter as safely as he can to a cliff ledge in the mountains, or giving a physics lecture. Potatoes aren't very exciting people.
That's better.
EDIT: I already hate that potato and his carefree attitude. I've looked at him for too long.
Embiggenment!