And now, a sonnet by William Shakespeare.
How can my muse want subject to invent,
While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse?
O! give thy self the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight;
For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thy self dost give invention light?
Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth
Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.
If my slight muse do please these curious days,
The pain be mine, but-
Psst! Where's the thing?
What do you mean, "What thing"? The thing this stupid blog's been doing all week! That thing!
The mayonnaise thing?
Yeah, you know, "Oh my God, yada yada yada". That thing.
Er, Should've been here by now.
Yeah, it should.
So what should...?
How the hell should I know?
Oh hell with it. Bring up the next bit.
But before you go, here is some non-mayonnaise related nonsense.
And now....for the last time...THIS!
Thanks for dropping by. Until next time, remember to be good to one another.
There's a new post coming up tomorrow. Don't worry, it's not mayonnaise related. And to my Whovian readers, Doctor Who stuff is coming in 2 days.
I'm So Glad My Suffering Amuses You
"Oh my God! There's so much mayonnaise!"
"Where is everybody?"