Not Too Interested In This Anymore

Here is my seven thousanth blog profile thing. This one is about Thomas Phipps, who also is not away, but wishes me to blog about him too. Please note that I am VERY busy. You are stopping me from tidying and stuff, and you know that these blog things take a lot of time. Grr you.

Anyway, I started talking to the Phippman last year at some point. It is all the fault of Stephanie Franklin, you see, who knows people, who know other people, who know Tom. I am afraid to say that we met over the internet. He may have been a forty year old pervert, for all I'd known. Well. Possibly. But anyway. We met him in February, I think, when we had a lot of rampant batty sex. Ok, maybe not. We went to see Along Came Polly instead. Amounts to the same thing, though, doesn't it?

Three Interesting Facts About Phipps:

1. He is blonde. Like proper blonde. Impressively so. And his hair is very fluffy. I have never seen such fluffy blonde hair. You may go as far as to say that I am in awe of its fluffiness. Ok, maybe not quite that far. But you know, it's still blonde, and still very fluffy.
2. He can actually be very, very funny. Sometimes. Ok, most of the time. Except when he is in a pervy mood. And he's also not funny when he keeps telling me off for not getting on with blogging. He is just annoying then. STOP TELLING ME OFF, YOU MEGGLOMANIC. Is that how you spell it? I don't know, I have given up on being good at spelling. He also writes AMAZINGLY good stories. Really. Scarily good. If he is not a writer of some sort when he grows up, I shall kill myself. And him. And maybe his brother too. Not sure why kill the brother as well, but his name is Bertie. That is not relevant.
3. He ROWS. That makes me laugh insanely. Hahahahaha. Like more insanely than normal. What is rowing anyway? Just sitting in a big jar in a lake, waving some sticks around. Oh dear. Why rowing?

He is complaining again, so I refuse to finish this properly. I am going on STRIKE.