To prove I am not lying

Hurry, buy your copy now! Be sure to read the reviews!

Further proof that society is going to the dogs sheep

I thought I had found the crappiest title for the week this morning while shelving. I was certain of it. Who in the hell, I thought, would want to take out a book on painting flowers on stones. Why would you write, publish or read a book deovted to the art of florifying rocks? Who has the time? Do they paint them up and encircle the garden? Is someone trying to pimp out a mini stone henge? Come to think of it that last idea sounds attractive, but I digress.
Shelving that book Painting Flowers on Stones I was sure to have plunged to my weekly nadir.
Not so.
Later on this morning, irate typing fuelled by another stint of processing (*PFFFT* I am a special snowflake and I deserve something a bit better than this!) I found a new mystery series. The title I came accross was Three Bags Full : a sheep detective story. OK, I am willing to suspend my disbelief enough to suppose there is a roving shepherd by day, crime fighter by night. But I am not going to go far enough to suppose that a bloody flock of sheep, neurons going ballistic, can bring perps to justice. The note at the back of the book indicated there was also narcotic and alcohol use by the flock. I can only imagine how slow they must have been with those additional impairments. Why anyone wants to read animal detective stories I don't know. The age group these stories appeal to were not reared on Brian Jacques' biannual fluxes. Lord knows what will happen when Jacques' readers hit decrepitude. I comfort myself in the warm knowledge I will probably be dead by then or maybe I too will embrace such novels in my dotage.
It is with trepidation I take my lunch; the quality of titles has been getting worse & I fear what may strike me when I get to the bindery. May the lord have mercy on our souls.

Bog etiquette

Yeah, so one of the highlights of the day was trying to clean the toilet. Repeat some affirmations, look at it from an angle and think of Mariah Carey...it's not so terrible. What I find particularly disconcerting is the inevitable supply of reading material that winds up in the wee room. (Oh lord, I just want to digress into all the euphemisms, so many, my particular favourite toilet door sign thus far is "Tis Here" and I will save the rest for another occasion). Frankly I don't want to touch it to remove it. Why the hell can't people just hit the metamucil? Though as I live in a vegan household I would not have thought we would have such -err- congestion issues. It's like they are gleefully reconciling themselves to an half hour of wasted time um, eliminating waste. Reading an issue of Deadline is not going to make it any more fruitful and that rag isn't even absorbant.

My god, some households even have book shelves of material. Clearly people who are either gravely inconsiderate, or who have lived with 2 bathrooms their whole lives. Really, people should just get jobs so thy can take a dump on work time using work toilet paper. Then my flat might not degenerate in its periodic toilet paper wars.

Isn't it interesting, in that photo the loose end of the paper is against the wall rather than facing the room. Is it because they wanted to cut back on unnecessary usage?