If you hate LOLcats, move on to the next blog on your list now, because this is probably going to make you nauseous. For the last few months, I've been thinking (and often speaking) in LOLspeak. I dragged David into this habit, so he's who I babble at when I get an attack of the LOLs. This is the email I sent to him after Jenny and I got back from the market:
k soez i goes to farmr markit wif jenny dis moarnin an she gotz lots a fyebur an cheez an we seez wulfhownd an ibeezin hownd and labs an skipper... shippr... the kewt blak dawg an i wants stuffs but i has fiev buks an i need it fer subway tamorra soez i cant has anyfin an i sad but is okee cuz i saws teh puppahs an deys kewt and dare wuz sheeps to an we pats dem and dey goes baaaah an dare wuz lama to but heez eetin soez we not pats him an tonite i gunna wach franse play eyrland cuz rugby is kewl
And this, folks, is why I don't go out in public much. ;-)
Time for work. Gods, I feel like a grown-up.