A plane is circling my hood, wasting fuel so it won’t explode during landing. I cross fingers it crashes near, so I can claim a sick day.
Fifteen minutes before sleep, an insomniac texts himself a record of the day in 140 characters or less.
by antoni.us
A plane is circling my hood, wasting fuel so it won’t explode during landing. I cross fingers it crashes near, so I can claim a sick day.