Every time I type a blog entry straight into Blogger the site goes down. Now is that my fault - are my entries causing it? Or is it just coincidence..?

Anyway, it's not like I even said anything interesting. I'm sure I had something I wanted to say, but then I got caught up with talking about Max Payne. Because he's wasted hours of my precious holiday time. It's all Max's fault! For crying out loud. I've splattered his blood across many buildings in New York. I don't mean to. I used to mean to kill Lara Croft. I used to make her jump off of waterfalls onto pointy rocks. I never did get the hang of Tomb Raider. Never felt much inclined to keep playing. Not like with Max. Drat.

I mean, I get to a point where I think it's impossible. I give up for a while, but I can't stay away. So I play it again, and I get past the bit I'm stuck on. Everything goes fine for a while, then I get stuck again. And Max gets riddled with bullets. Or blown into little bits. (Although he doesn't actually get blown into bits. Now that would be messy.) Or burnt to a crisp. With much flailing about.

This wouldn't be so annoying if it weren't for the fact that there's no quick save on the PS2. So you have to play the entire segment you died on again. And invariably there's some horribly tedious stuff that you have to keep doing to get to the place where you die. Again. For the millionth time. Drat. At the moment I'm in the Aesir building. I have to jump over all the laser trip wires, shoot loads of guys, get into the lift, and get exploded by C4. Although I've only managed to get to the being exploded point once so far. And I have to work next week. Drat drat drat.

Still haven't written any of that fic. If anyone wants to demand that I write it, go ahead. Well, I wrote a little bit, but I think I'll change it. It comes out in my head like a graphic novel. (Max Payne's fault, probably. I think I'll blame everything on Max Payne. Most people won't know who he is. The "grown ups" anyway. Hmm.) Now it's interesting to try and write a graphic novel in words instead of using pictures. Sometimes I wonder whether my brain doesn't want me to write it down. I've been living with it for so long - what's going to take up the space in my brain once I've written it down?

I got hold of the sixth Fray comic yesterday. It's only about 5 months late. Hooray! It's good. As it gets more exciting it takes longer to actually get to the shops. Drat, basically. Drat.

And the Business Card machine in Southend Victoria station ate £4 of my hard-earned cash. Curse you business card machine for making me poor this way!

But Woolworths had Pez. Yum.