Cousins of Corky St. Clair.


Oh, hey, was so distracted by my raging, barometric headache, the Olympic diving, and the massive pile of work at, er, work, that I didn’t write a thing this morning. So I’m quickly dashing this out from my desk while I eat a salad and wonder if having the Olympics on in a tiny window will prevent me getting anything done this afternoon.

I’m thinking it’s probably a terrible, terrible idea.

So, yes, I have Olympic fever, despite my misgivings. Whateryagonna do. We just won a bronze in women’s weightlifting and that’s somehow superimportant, people.

I’ve been posting this everywhere over the last couple of days, but it’s one of my favourite bits (unfortunately truncated – if anyone knows where to find a full version online, I will be very grateful) from Saturday Night Live. The ‘I don’t swim’ kills me every fucking time.

Totally unrelatedly, people still find my webpage by searching for ‘Benedict Cumberbatch wants children’. It cracks me up every time.

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