back for seconds

And now my fur has turned to skin
And I’ve been quickly ushered in
To a world that, I confess, I do not know
But I still dream of running careless through the snow…

The weather is lovely here. Cloudless merciful skies from peak to escarpment. I think this means we’re next in line for an earthquake.

Eliciting strange looks abroad, though: I have not nearly enough collared shirts to cover up this mysterious hickey and I smell like Roman Polanski’s shower. Is it wholly normal to wear a love-bite like a victor’s laurel? Regardless, this is what I am doing. Let us not conjecture on its origin.

Totes skipping ENGL305 – Shakespeare and his Age and taking a nap, because I have a deep-seated fear that if I fall asleep in ENGL305 Shakespeare and His Age, I may wake up as/next-to Shakespeare. In his age. I blame all the absurd Connecticut-Yankee time travel in my Saturday morning cartoons.

It can't possibly be safe for a baby to time travel. Even with friends.

Unattended infants? Next issue: The Rugrats Files – Pre-Cambrian Alert.*rimshot*

In the world of geekery: Ubisoft’s you-must-always-be-connected-to-our-servers-or-you-can’t-play digital rights management (DRM, much like in your MP3s, you credible purchaser of legitimate music), which raised the hue and cry when they attached to the PC version of Assassin’s Creed 2, crashed today. Aforementioned hue-and-cryers, when they weren’t extolling the virtues of gamer liberty like acne-smirched, subterranean Patrick Henrys, made the sound point that servers go down. It’s practically like a career for those fuckers. So there would be at least one day in the black future when Lynn X. from Sarasota, FL would hop on for a couple of hours of stylish murder and not be able to play. Presumably, then, she would fall to the ground, clutching her throat like a cliff’s edge while her skin fell away like old Post-it notes in rental textbooks.

It’s not often one gets to simultaneously tell an entire corporation “I told you so.”

In memoriam, Lynn X. She was a loving mother and a good metaphor.

Oh yeah. The Oscars are over. Nice to see the Dude got his due(d). Also, Wikipedia tells me he admitted in an interview to quitting smoking weed for the filming of… The Big Lebowski? No (snide) comment, Jeff.
Last disorder of business. A lot of very professional bloggers celebrate 100th post anniversaries, 1-year anniversaries. This is my second post, which is a personal best. I’m giving myself a cupcake.

I don't know who the fuck those two people are, but they better get off my cupcakes.

Happy anniversary, blog.

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