FLOGOFAILING

In the Anonymous Multinational and moments ago Mary, a disgruntled Flogophile, referred to me as a "disgrace" for not not updating the old Flog. She threw her nose up at me in contempt, and with a single venomous look in her eye she spat on my resolve and my boring un-relate-worthy life. I laughed it off, but inwardly I cried.
Flogging has been difficult this week, it's been busy and I've hardly had time for a fart or a heartbeat. I'm trying to do several things at once right now, (1) writing a bit of this medieval whip-cracking thesis, (2) eating a sandwich, (3) logging a call from a woman who thought she'd have her computer before the weekend and oh my God how is she going to do her work now that she's leaving and can't take her laptop with her and I hope that I realise how I've ruined her day but like oh my God what a sexy accent I have anyway. (4) Writing this bollocks, (5) continue an inner daydream where there is no such thing as computers, Federal Express and Americans (irrate ones). Crapman, the bollocks, has just sent me this cartoon:

I feel like i might cry again.