There should be a medical term for injuries sustained by men who do that exaggerated craning of the neck when anyone vaguely female is walking past him. Surely there’s some sort of long-term physical risk to this move?
All in Sardony's Blog
There should be a medical term for injuries sustained by men who do that exaggerated craning of the neck when anyone vaguely female is walking past him. Surely there’s some sort of long-term physical risk to this move?
Office politics are one of the more soul-destroying aspects of adulthood, aren’t they? One particularly irritating branch of this is food politics. The chat about food at work is truly dire.
It’s been an age since I’ve had a chance to write anything because I decided to go on a kind of tech-detox over Christmas. I hadn’t planned to, but I was scrolling past YET another Christmas tree Instagram photo (can we just establish that these photos are never good?) when I flung down my phone with a sigh of ennui.
Whoe’er invented lebkuchen is the true hero of Christmas! It’s the only thing between me and cheesy chips.
It’s officially mid-to-late December, by which I mean 'tis the season of consumer capitalist joy, by which I mean CHRISTMAS IS COMING. It’s especially catchy in caps, I must say.