(no subject)

[sabotabby]

she's a lumberjack and she's okay she works all night and she sleeps all day

she cuts down trees she eats her lunch and goes to the lah-vah-treee
on wednesday she goes shopping

and has buttered scoooones with teeea

Comments

[groovitude.livejournal.com]

This post is lacking in punctuation. It must be a drunk post.

[sabotabby]

My post earlier today shwoed a distinct lack of proofreading ability, and I was totally sober.

[groovitude.livejournal.com]

Or that's what you let everybody think.

[chailash.livejournal.com]

That's it, I'm putting Monty Python on my Netflix list.

[sabotabby]

as well you should

I have no idea why I was singing that song all the way home.

[chailash.livejournal.com]

eh, why not? 'tis a good song.

[lopukhov.livejournal.com]

I wish that's the story of my life...

[sabotabby]

I look good in plaid;.

[esizzle.livejournal.com]

9:30pm on a monday.. not an unusual time for a dunk postie :)

[sabotabby]

God, it's Monday? How depressing.

[threepunchstuff.livejournal.com]

Champagñe? Cawiar? Anarchy?

[sabotabby]

All of the above!

[threepunchstuff.livejournal.com]

[florence-craye.livejournal.com]

*giggles*

[bike4fish.livejournal.com]

And now I can't find my copy of the Monty Python Songbook, which has a German version of th Lumberjack Song.

*sob*

[sabotabby]

It's just as well. I'd demand that you do a phone post.

[zazuomgwtf.livejournal.com]

thank you very much!
now I have the lumberjack song running on a loop through my head.

[sabotabby]

It was that and "I Don't Care If the Sun Don't Shine," which is almost as earwormy. I just shouldn't drink.

[morgoid.livejournal.com]

Man, I wish *I* was drunk!

I guess bein' all manic wit' da feverishness will hafta do.

[sabotabby]

*pout*

Now I'm cranky and hungover, so it may be for the best.

[lemur-man.livejournal.com]

Yes, yes, but does she put on women's clothing and hang around in barrrs?

I bet she does, I bet she does!

I was just reading the other day about the Pythons being in this fair city in the early 70s, when the only way to get booze on a Sunday was with room service. So there was Graham Chapman, phoning in one minimum order after another, gradually filling the room with untouched salads.

[sabotabby]

There were no bars (or hotels, for that matter) last night.

[lemur-man.livejournal.com]

Drinking at home?

[sabotabby]

At a friend's place, down the street.

[lemur-man.livejournal.com]

Ah, well, that's alright then. Drinking at home alone in front of the Internet would have been a bit sad.

[sabotabby]

I don't do that. Much.