limping. he is greatly wounded by his encounter with the Maths Moolah. so tired. so weary. he trudges on. he can at least comfort himself in the knowledge that he dealt fairly well with the potentially lethal literature lash.
pissed off, he tosses aside his graphique calculatore, hoping never to see the blasted thing again.
TODAY
a good lie-in invigorates him, and he is fresh and ready for the History Huzzah preperation. determined to banish the ghosts of yesterday's terrible encounter, he delves deep into his vast array of resources, and with the friendly, ever eager to help LiteSpeed, he trains himself for the battle to come.
storm clouds gathered ominously in the sky as the day died, but he is not one for superstition. in the quiet comfort of his humble abode, he seeks shelter from the storm, and finds some solace and calm in the magical tunes of his ipod on this cold, gloomy night.
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the white t-rex
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