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Journal October_30th's Journal: Garlic beef in a cream sauce and music 8

Journal by October_30th
Ah. Yes.

Garlic beef, potato loaves (prepared in oven - not deep-fried in fat), creamy/garlic sauce, a feta salad, fizzy water and good music:

...
I wish that I was born a thousand years ago
I wish that I'd sail the darkened seas
On a great big clipper ship
Going from this land here to that
In a sailor's suit and cap
Away from the big city
Where a man can not be free
Of all of the evils of this town
And of himself, and those around
Oh, and I guess that I just don't know
...

Let the good times roll... it's payday tomorrow (literally).

Gluttony. That's what's going to do me in. Maybe sloth too.

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Garlic beef in a cream sauce and music

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  • Gluttony. That's what's going to do me in. Maybe sloth too.

    Hey, at least you will not be going any lower than Purgatory. At the current rate, i'll be spending the eternity dangling between levels 6 to 8 [slashdot.org] (yeah, this is old stuff) of Inferno itself.

    • Well, according to that test I go down as far as level 7:

      Guarded by the Minotaur, who snarls in fury, and encircled within the river Phlegethon, filled with boiling blood, is the Seventh Level of Hell. The violent, the assasins, the tyrants, and the war-mongers lament their pitiless mischiefs in the river, while centaurs armed with bows and arrows shoot those who try to escape their punishment. The stench here is overpowering. This level is also home to the wood of the suicides- stunted and gnarled trees

    • Whoohoo, I am going to Limbo, the First level of hell. Unless of course I lied without realizing it to get that test result, hmm. Actually aside from the famous dead people this sounds like my life now :-)

      Charon ushers you across the river Acheron, and you find yourself upon the brink of grief's abysmal valley. You are in Limbo, a place of sorrow without torment. You encounter a seven-walled castle, and within those walls you find rolling fresh meadows illuminated by the light of reason, whereabout many sh

    • You approach Satan's wretched city where you behold a wide plain surrounded by iron walls. Before you are fields full of distress and torment terrible. Burning tombs are littered about the landscape. Inside these flaming sepulchers suffer the heretics, failing to believe in God and the afterlife, who make themselves audible by doleful sighs. You will join the wicked that lie here, and will be offered no respite. The three infernal Furies stained with blood, with limbs of women and hair of serpents, dwell in

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So you think that money is the root of all evil. Have you ever asked what is the root of money? -- Ayn Rand

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