Passwords and farts and stuff.

This is supposed to be a blog of important things like farts and human gas and other kinds of gas, but I am unable to comply because this stupid system will only allow me a certain number of pix, and this it.

But only some 0.9 persons read this blog anyway, so what do I care?

So with a stroke that virtually obliterates half your mind, I am hardly able to remember my own hands let alone any one of a thousand passwords you might use. Passwords are a pain at the best of times.

Try remembering another person's password. It is not easy to do. Now multiply that by 10 and try to rememer those. Then you might get an idea what my life is like. I have to try and do what you take for granted. It is a life of Pleasure, Pain and Passwords.

Banking. Computing. Phoning. More. These are all basic things essential to everyday life. These are things I can no longer do by myself. I just don't have the brainpower anymore. What used to work as sharp as a tack before no longer works.

Sometimes I can barely remember my own name. But I can remember once farting on a hockey bench as a kid for eight seconds, which is a world record in my books. And I recently visited the beef farm of the husband and wife of my betrothed-to-be.

It was smelly and there was a lot of methane gas around, I'm sure.