There are several things that irritate the steely cold hell out of The Anti DC: herds of tourists; DC buses; the idea of "commuter shoes"; when broadcast anchorwomen pronounce "scombridae" as "scomberidae" (how could she?!); low-pressure showerheads; morning; and, today's particular irritant, the part of my day job that requires me to talk about "science."See, I'm a fan of weird science (uh, not the movie, mind you, but things like theoretical physics), but when it comes to applied science I get bored so easily.
As you should well know by now, I'm functionally retarded, so keeping up with these "scientists" as they "speak" is as hard for me as it is for an insomniac to fall asleep. In fact, while these so-called "scientists" are talking about all of their magical gizmos and gadgets, it actually erases the adverb off of my aforementioned self-descriptive and I become simply retarded. So retarded, in fact, that I can barely form sentences (especially the pithy little kernels of wisdom plastered on your screen right now), let alone come up with some overall ridiculous idea to blog about.
Also, my iBook (circa 2005) finally gave out and blogging is much, much more difficult without a computer. Who knew!?
Anyway, since my brain is still reeling from this morning's "science," I can't write very many more words without it turning into some made up language in my mind, so allow me to illustrate just how exactly I'm feeling about technology right now through the image of none other than a sweatervest (natch) ffffound! via my friend BAD. It's genius and I need to own it.
Is there any feeling or emotion a sweatervest can't convey? (And, of course, that's rhetorical.)
2 comments:
I figure if you just start typing random letters, at worst it would come out to look like Cyrillic.
My circa 2003 ibook is still up and running fast as ever. What did you do to yours, take it to Dagestan?
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