I'm looking at my hand, looking back at me. We are having a conversation. We have many conversations. Mostly about hands and looking and occasionally about conversations.
I live in a house, actually I don't. I live in two houses. Actually I don't. I drift from one house to the other. Which is actually quite fun because I get a lift from Falkor, the doggie-dragon from Never Ending Story. I wonder if this will be a never ending story?
Probably not, seeing as I have a reputation for not ending things. I never ended school, I never ended writing a sitcom and I never ended my cup of tea and now it's gone cold, cold like my fridge, which is actually broken. That's a lie, I don't even own a fridge, I just eat-as-I-go. Which is also a lie, 'cos I don't go anywhere, like this post.
I saw a cat today.
Aren't milkmen funny? I'm basing this purely on the only milkman I know who is actually funny. Sorry, I just remembered, he's not a milkman anymore.
How long are you going to read this? Are you going to stop now... how about now?
OK, you weirdos I'll keep typing, you keep reading. Unless you're scanning this, then 'hello' 
I love that stuff you get with food packets, what's it called? Ah, food.
I'm typing on a MAC, to be more precise, I'm typing on a keyboard.
I bought myself some sweets the other day (I didn't really, but role with me) So these sweets tasted funny, they actually made me laugh (kinda how you're laughing at this hilarious post) Well, it wasn't that funny, calm down.
That story didn't go anyway, unlike this post. Wait didn't I make that joke at the start? Erm.... no.
How about now? Milkmen are funny... oh wait no, I've discussed that already. Actually I remembered what he's doing now, Postman. All postmen aren't funny.
