I groaned as I slowly opened my eyes and bought my fingers to my face. I groggily rubbed the grit from my eyes. My head felt like an avalanche had assaulted my frontal lobe and every time I moved it made loose rocks bump around painfully in my skull.
“It’s happened again. Why do I do this to myself?” I thought through the red wine fog.
My wife stood in front of the mattress that I sleep on in the living room because my snoring keeps her awake at night. She surveyed the damage from the night before. Two empty red wine bottles and scattered packets of biscuits, chocolate and nuts that were eaten in a drunken buffet.
“Are you at the point where you realise something needs to change yet?” She asked.
I farted and groaned.
Can Facebook really help us connect?
I know it can help people to share information, images, movies etc... but can it really help people to have a real ‘connection’.
All the shiny advertising and media campaigns for the latest ‘innovative communication platform’ will certainly try to make us bel...
If I were on the Quidditch pitch, I reckon I would be a seeker.
It seems in the past I’ve always been looking for things, searching for things. Things to make me happy. Things to fill my time. Things to help me succeed. Things to eat that are healthier and better for me. Things - Things - Things....