Picture! Picture!

Yeah.

Life On Marz presents - A Picture!

Hurrah.

I sent this attachment around the office after I had a hearty chuckle - pity nobody else laughed.

I guess it just means that they're all fucked.

Anywho...

This was taken from a London train station:

Privileged

Hey!
How are you?
How are things?
Yeah nothing much... So tell me, what have you been up to?
Yeah, same, I'm just too tired after work to do anything, you know?
We should get together some time. What's the best day for you?
So have you seen the rest of the group lately?
How are they?
Man, I miss the old days.
What are you having? Nah, it's cool.
Get me a round later.
What's your email address? We should really keep in contact.
That's great news! When did he get that promotion?
Cool.

So...

How about that War in Iraq?

Bruxism

I've been grinding my teeth lately, and I'm not too sure why.

From a quick Google search I've discovered that somewhere between ten to forty percent of adults are doing this, so I'm in some sort of club. Yay. It is reassuring in a strange way - probability tells me that I can stand in a morning rush crowd and know that of the people surrounding me, somebody else has worn down their teeth last night.

It's nice like that, to know you belong in a dysfunctional group, a family of some sort.

So, if you live in the Inner-West(side!) of Sydney and suffer from teeth grinding, drop me a line so we can have coffee and talk of ways to get around our problem.

Hopefully, by the end of it all, we will no longer have Bruxism in common, but something more.

Broken Umbrellas

I'd never seen so many broken umbrellas before. The bins and streets were littered with inverted umbrellas, umbrellas with deformed arms, umbrellas that were of no value.

They no longer functioned. They were incapable of their sole purpose. They were dead.

These were the umbrellas that bent to the will of the wind, and they were disposed of in disgust and shame.

They were made to work, damn it.

Now, work!