Quarter Life Crisis
The world according to Sven-S. Porst
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209 words
Our flat still reeks badly of yesterday's Raclette bonanza - despite leaving the windows open all night - so it's cold and smelly. My room is OK, though, as I remembered to close the door before we started. I enjoy the fresh smell of my drying laundry.
The Guardian is running a story on how the word fuck came into common usage during the past decades:
Further verification that fuck is, well, fucked, comes from Andrea Wills, the BBC's chief advisor on editorial policy. "In research, 50% or more people said the words that should never be broadcast are cunt, motherfucker, nigger, Paki and spastic. Young women also don't like whore, slag and twat. But fuck wasn't on the list."
Amazon, or Deutsche Post to be precise, finally delivered bits of my latest order, including the The Libertines CD. It took them over two weeks to do this. Anyway, it's here now and I'm enjoying it. Strangely the postman didn't wake me up at aound 8 this morning as he usually does but tried to shove the packet into our mailbox. Which is good because I didn't have to get up and bad becaus half of it was still stuck outside. On the other hand our neightbours are nice...
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