The Horse of Happenstance

Before going any futher, I need to mention the stange phenomena which occurs about ten feet behind me in the office (yes, I get to call it the office. No, its not the massing of thousands of haters wanting to stab me in the back). Its the fact that one man has forever left me with the ipression that the entire tech type computer nerdy team is made entirely of scousers. Its not, there is only one man who is from liverpool. But if he was any more of a man from Liverpool, he would succumbing to various well published and circulated stereotypes with which you are all familiar. He's just so loud, he seems to be the entire team ANyway, I digress. Well, I do that a lot.
The picture, if it has worked (if not, its a picture of a beetroot) is to pay homage to my failed food attempt last night. Having successfully boiled, skinned and prepped said veg of red, I followed a recipe for beet n pasta. It tasted bland. In fact, it went out the far side of bland and hit a new wall, that I like to call Bororand. Mightily tasteless. Pickled, this beast is fine, otherwise I recommend it not. Also, its inherent properties of colour are not really desirable. Much.
Ooh, the door went whump. This can only mean that my erstwhile co-habitor and long suffering girlfriend is back from her weekly sign language class. I shall greet her, possibly with tea, and go and hide the leftover rice from dinner which I want for my lunch tommorow. Yes, I know you read this S, but hey, its too late now. I regret NOTHING!
Rice is Nice.