h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

There is reason to believe that all is not well in the State of Denmark - or even Nottingham. For that matter, if you go anywhere you're bound to find a bit of a problem with something. Like the soft drinks vending machine that eats your money, gives twelve S'Grotnigs in change and provides you with a lukewarm can of bat's pizzle. Or the wheels that fall of your transportation device when you exceed the optimal limit of that said device - usually a couple of miles an hour after it starts being entertaining watching other transportation devices and pedestrians swerving or diving out of the way.

I come to this place every day almost. There are times when I don't - either when getting out of bed proves too painful or when the television starts broadcasting more athletic activity than entertaining light comedies and drivel-based soap operas. Weekends I think they're called... two days that seem to be composed of highly compressed nano-minutes meaning that, come the first working day, the two days appear to have passed in something less than two hours and you have no clear recollection of what actually happened between when you went home and when you came back again - except that it probably didn't involve getting enough sleep.

I'm waffling now, aren't I? Ah well... better get back to whatever it is that I'm supposed to be doing... If I hang around here too long I might accidentally remember why it was I started composing this Journal Entry!

That whole Where-did-the-weekend-go-I'm-sure-there-was-one-there-a-minute-ago feeling is pretty deadly, non? I have a seven month old son and weekends are my prime time with him - yet come the Return of Hellbrain - ie. Monday morning - all I can really remember vividly is the contents of any particularly virulent nappies and the occasional gummy grin.

Is weekend compression a common problem? If so, should we be worried? Is it all, perhaps, a Dastardly Plot? Have They discovered some kind of time squishing technology and are using it to further suppress the already pretty damn suppressed masses? Or is that a completely I've-heard-it-all-before theory and I should shut up now?

That whole Where-did-the-weekend-go-I'm-sure-there-was-one-there-a-minute-ago feeling is pretty deadly, non? I have a seven month old son and weekends are my prime time with him - yet come the Return of Hellbrain - ie. Monday morning - all I can really remember vividly is the contents of any particularly virulent nappies and the occasional gummy grin.

Is weekend compression a common problem? If so, should we be worried? Is it all, perhaps, a Dastardly Plot? Have They discovered some kind of time squishing technology and are using it to further suppress the already pretty damn suppressed masses? Or is that a completely I've-heard-it-all-before theory and I should shut up now?

That whole Where-did-the-weekend-go-I'm-sure-there-was-one-there-a-minute-ago feeling is pretty deadly, non? I have a seven month old son and weekends are my prime time with him - yet come the Return of Hellbrain - ie. Monday morning - all I can really remember vividly is the contents of any particularly virulent nappies and the occasional gummy grin.

Is weekend compression a common problem? If so, should we be worried? Is it all, perhaps, a Dastardly Plot? Have They discovered some kind of time squishing technology and are using it to further suppress the already pretty damn suppressed masses? Or is that a completely I've-heard-it-all-before theory and I should shut up now?

Oops. Sorry. The first two times I pressed 'Post Message' I got a 'You can't go there' box, so I assumed (wrongly, as it turned out...) that the posting hadn't worked. But, obviously, it had. Both times. And then it worked the third time. Oh dear...

I think I'll just go back to my quill and ink...