I’ve just spent the past hour editing down today’s podcast while witnessing the almost compulsive bathing, brushing, trimming, grooming, and otherwise torturing my beast by someone who claims to enjoy this sort of thing.
Ow. It hurts to type this right now, and I’m not talking about the endless afflictions of emotional pain. This is not something I’m especially proud of, no way, but to be entirely honest with you, because I like you: a little too much had been drunk last night (and I’m not talking about water), by me.
It’s true, it is, that Miette has bought something special to aid in her PodCASTing, though in the true ghetto style she so cherishes, she (or rather, I, Miette), didn’t do much to prevent the background sounds of discs spinning up, or dogs turning to dervish, or other random technospatter.