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Day 17.

Oh, My God: These Dudes.

My shitty cold apparently decided that the Campaign to Keep Andrew from Sleeping would be more effective if another ailment was recruited for the cause.  So now I have a painfully throbbing staph infection in my thumb, too.

My cold’s instincts were dead-fucking-on; I maybe slept for half an hour last night.

I’m telling you this to explain why I’m going to be sharing other (presumably well-rested) people’s shit on here instead of making up my own shit for the next 2 or 3 days.

The shit I would like to share with you today is the Dinosaur Comic published in this week’s edition of The Mercury:

“Seven hot feel tall” is the best personal description I’ve ever read. I wish I’d thought of that myself.

I love Dinosaur Comics.  I usually can’t stand comics or graphic novels; as I’ve previously mentioned, I have almost no sense for aesthetics.  So it makes sense that the one exception is a comic that uses the exact same six panels of artwork every week.

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