Title Cubicle

I just don't know what to write. I feel empty. But I have to write something, otherwise search engines bots will feel sad when they come next time and see nothing has changed. Their sadness might be so overwhelming that silicon tears would drop from their mechanical eyes, and from these shiny silver tears, multi-coloured plastic flowers packed with wired and data would grow, soon to be visited by tiny robot bees carrying the mysterious fluid to the great computer bee, needed for its fight against the giant iron spider crawling a steel web and spawning tiny spiders who in turn lay tiny eggs, the search engines, who in turn give birth to microscopic parasites called the bots, and when these bots visit my website and see nothing has changed. They feel sad, so very sad...

Yeah, I guess it's really time to go to bed.