Enough already with the cold. I get it. I’m stupid. I chose to live where the weather is like this but there is no need to rub it in. I washed my hands before going out to get the mail this afternoon but luckily it just took the skin off of one knuckle to show me the error of my ways. I used the sleeve of my sweatshirt as shitty imitation gloves and pulled the mail out like a freezing cold giant sized game of Operation. Still raw knuckle skin covered in frozen ooze acted as the games warning buzzer. When I brushed the sides of the box my brain vibrated everything. Good times.
The dog wanted to go out again today. Nope. Drag me down the stairs once shame on you… Flipping her off every time I emerged from my office somehow made me feel better thus adding to the giant pile of wrong that is me.
And NO I am not talk typing this right now because I had no time throughout the day to go and learn stilted speech and the other tricks that might make that technology work. I think that might be one of those things that with practice would become easier which means that it aint happening. There is something so annoying about speaking punctuation and here we have arrived at yet another thing Star Trek lied to me about. Well. maybe not. upon further review those Captain’s Logs (some douche these days would call them Clogs) were probably meant to be audio only so strike my earlier shot at that fictional utopian future.
This reminds me of a Trekkie dust up from a while back. It was a conversation where the fan was explaining all of the things that Star Trek predicted. I was extra ME that day and it didn’t go as planned for the person listing all the things. I distinctly remember asking him where they kept the communicators because as far as I could tell the early series uniforms at least had no pockets. He fired back with something about owning an authentic something and it having pockets and I just kept talking about how terrible those things must have smelled.
I find that if you don’t really know what you are talking about its best to find a sore spot, relentlessly pick at it, then back up the salt truck. You say sometimes I might argue like a fifth grader I say if it aint broke. And now that I have figured out how to use aint more than someone who does it on purpose I’m going to call it a night.