my night shifts

are bloody necessary. If I spend afternoons reading, for picturesque example, all disposable pages of a crappy biography of a woman who in great detail describes a blow job she gave to Steven Tyler on Caribbean island about 35 years ago, then yes, of course i have to write about submerged evidences of late quaternary sea-level at 1am in the morning. Today I am actually quite diligent and oh, have I just finished one tricky chapter? Yes, I have! YES, I HAVE! Great success, happy times!

I am sure you are now headed straight to that chapter about the blow job, right? You have noticed the link, haven't you? And have you noticed the link for ''happy times''? And for ''great success''? I thought you haven't.