Something of a slump today (I mean the calendar but it could equally apply to me):
Though the yellow dog is sweet:
My own beige dog is going to cost us something like THREE HUNDRED EUROS to house over Christmas. I weep. Then I collect my own tears; dry them out and bottle them to give them to all my family members as "Dead Sea salts" for Christmas, because the dog has spent the budget ('budget'). Frau Antje may be right, and I may have to resort to a weepette prize giveaway (no one would enter though, since you all remember the appalling incident with the Picard pie).
Question: Is there any earworm more powerful than Kung Fu Fighting? I carelessly infected my friend F with it today.
F: Oh no. Kung Fu Fighting has an incredible effect on me. As fast as lightning. It lasts for weeks. In fact, it is a little bit frightening.
E: Shit. I've reinfected myself. I am so sorry. I feel genuine remorse. What is it about that song? Is anything else similarly powerful?
F: Jessie's Girl is pretty good.
E: God, it is, isn't it? Now the two of them are fighting it out in my head. Aaaargh.
F: Yes, it's interesting.
E: And awful. Mainly awful.
F makes a case for "What does the fox say" as a modern pretender, but I'm not even sure if I could pick it out of an aural line up. Which is strongest for you? Let's test this out.
A minute increment of progress: I have just opened the agent's document and scanned it squeamishly with my eyes half shut. Tomorrow I will galvanise myself to actually read properly, probably quivering like a jelly in the manner of Mr Jelly (I have just had to go and check that was actually his name. How come Mr Jelly has a special name? Why is he not Mr Anxious or Mr Scared? Who knows). Pathetic.