joke of the day

this mail appeared as the joke of the day in my inbox.
i have no idea why is it a joke.

It had been a rought day, so when I walked into the party I was verychalant, despitte my efforts to appear gruntled and consolate.

I was furling my wieldy umbrella for the coat check when I saw her standing alone in a corner. She was a descript person, a woman in a state of total array. Her hair was kempt, her clothing shevelled, and she moved in a gainly way.

I wanted desperately to meet her, but I knew I'd have to make bones about it since I was travelling cognito. Beknownst to me, the hostess, whom I could see coth hide and hair of, was very proper, so it would be skin off my nose if anything bad happened. And even though I had only swerving loyalty to her, my manners couldn't be peccable. Only toward and heard-of behavior would do.

Fortunately, the embarrassment that my maculate appearance might cause was evitable. There were two ways about it, but the chances that someone as flappable as I would be ept enough to become persona grata or a sung hero were slim. I was, after all, something to sneeze at, someone you would easily hold a candle to, someone who usually aroused bridled passion.

So I decided not to risk it. But then, all at once, for some apparent reason, she looked in my direction and smiled in a way that I could make heads or tails of.

I was plussed. It was concerting to see that she was communicade, and it nerved me that she was interested in a pareil like me, sight seen. Normally, I had a domitable spirit, but, being corrigible, I felt capacitated -- as if this were something I was great shakes at -- and forgot that I had succeeded in situations like this only a told number of times. So, after a terminable delay, I acted with mitigated gall and made my way through the ruly crowd with strong givings.

Nevertheless, since this was all new hat to me and I had no time to prepare a promptu speech, I was petuous. Wanting to make only called-for remarks, I started talking about the hors d'oeuvres, trying to abise her of the notion that I was sipid, and perhaps even bunk a few myths about myself.

She responded well, and I was mayed that she considered me a savory character who was up to some good. She told me who she was. "What a perfect nomer," I said, advertently.

The conversation become more and more choate, and we spoke at length to much avail. But I was defatigable, so I had to leave at a godly hour. I asked if she wanted to come with me.

To my delight, she was committal. We left the party together and have been together ever since. I have given her my love, and she has requited it.

hmmm... words?

Someone called me a slacker today. that kinda woke me up from the continous gaming of Priston Tale since the early morn. time for some reflections... hmm... okay, tonight i will play until i get to lvl 40. then i... study a bit. my notes are inside my bag for ages, untouched, imcomprehensible, and thick. i missed my white board in my room. the many nights which i spent hours figuring all the maths, phy and chem, drawing and writing, erasing and editing. 2 years since i mugged. 2 years ago, i studied hard. why? my best.

the ankle is still wrapped up. i have no idea when it's going to be okay. the 2 females in my house commented that i'm always getting injured. i have no idea why also. bathing is a pain, becuz the ankle is wrapped up. -_-

taken a liking on PT rather than Lineage II. it's the culture, the party, the... oh shitz i died but i get to respawn somewhere near and die again becuz the mob is too strong. back to gaming. slacker~