When I worked in Sydney in 1989, a bloke climbed to the top of Transport House and committed suicide by jumping off. He hit the street about 20 yards from where I was standing. I had my back to him at the time, but I heard it.
Something today triggered the memory I'd been able to supress for 15 years, and now the sound is playing in my head like a stuck record.
I just picked up a bat I have the euthanase. Bugger.
On the good side, I was also handed a bat I don't have to euthanase. She is a little thin but is eating mealworms. A week or R&R for her and she'll be right.
I've created a new mealworm farm using a base made of high protein insectivore mix, bran, stale bread and old powdered milk. The old mealworm farm uses bran only as a base. I hope to raise some ExtremeMealworms full of batty goodness.
as seen on alt.callahans, via the sillicon-shamon:
"To Timberlake: to make a right tit of oneself in public [i.e. to indulge in crass, boorish and uncouth behaviour] for attentions sake, and then to claim it was all a mistake afterwards."
numb
accomplished
amused