And I wonder what's meant by the letters written on it? Perhaps it's just the name fo the company or something like that.Originally Posted by Logos
Tal that's a lovely mug you've got there!
And I wonder what's meant by the letters written on it? Perhaps it's just the name fo the company or something like that.Tal that's a lovely mug you've got there!
I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew.
Im going again today...hopefull there will be no fainting this time ( especially as Im going on my own).
My mission in life is to make YOU smile
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The time has come," the Walrus said,"To talk of many things:
Forum Rules- You know you want to read 'em
|Litnet Challange status = 5/260
|currently reading
Well I did it and survived ... didnt turn lightheaded till I stepped through my front door. I got a nice sticker pout of it too.
Although it took 4 people and 15 minutes to find my vein.... but the plus side was the nurse sounded interested in the litnet book club.
My mission in life is to make YOU smile
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The time has come," the Walrus said,"To talk of many things:
Forum Rules- You know you want to read 'em
|Litnet Challange status = 5/260
|currently reading
Except for this part
sounds great! They've pretty much decided to use my left arm vein now because it's bigger and easier to get at(maybe something to do with being closer to heart) but I know it's awful when they're poking and poking trying to find it
huh they had stickers saying " I gave left arm today"
only I did right so I got a sticker saying " Im a good little bleeder"
My mission in life is to make YOU smile
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The time has come," the Walrus said,"To talk of many things:
Forum Rules- You know you want to read 'em
|Litnet Challange status = 5/260
|currently reading
I would give blood if my parents allowed it. But they hate every form of charity. I don't consider blood drive charity, but, yeah...
"Dullness. Ethereal, ephemeral, allegorical dullness. The blunt boredom rises from the gorge of her insufferable lips and floats like the tiniest feather of a long dead bird until it lands, naked and tired memory next to your fleshy feet. But she is gone now, away, away, like all the others, away, away! Only I, poet man, has chosen to stay. And I welcome you, travelers, to the memory catacombs of the Brunnen-G!" (c) Poet Man
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