Missed Chance at Found Porn

I hate cell phones. Despite the emergency capabilities, in the long run they are useless little bits of insurance liability despite the amount of bit-ty crap you can cram in one or the cute little stickers I can slap on my RazR. I hate people who drive with them. I hate people who can’t go 2 minutes without chatting with some other vapid, cell-phone junkie. I hate people who think they don’t look like complete nutters talking to themselves in shopping centers and grocery stores. I hate people who text others in the same house because they’re too damn lazy to walk downstairs. And oh so many more. Well, maybe hate is a strong word. Replace all previous instances of hate with any one of the following: “am annoyed by”, “dislike severely” or “pity”.

Now that we all have the back-story of my wish to not let modern technology eat away my brain one wave length at a time (Darn you, Stephen King!) for one teeny-weeny millisecond-ish moment I regretted my aversion to all things cellular (I also hate genetics but that’s a different cellular story for another more futuristic time to be announced whenever I get around to figuring out what this parenthetic ramble means). If I wasn’t such an anti-cell-phone tech-geek (I know! Someone’s gonna come tear up my membership card – well, take it away at least. The paper’s a little thick, and we all know about the average computer nerd’s lack of upper body strength) I’d have photographic evidence of the 6’ tall nonsense that had me giggling like a 12 year old when you say the word “boobies”.

For 40 minutes this morning I was stuck behind this plastered on the back of a trailer.

What were these people thinking, or how much did Lance Armstrong pay to try to make this an American catch-phrase?

Look at me! I'm all introverted!!!

"Mastermind". Introverted intellectual with a preference for finding certainty. A builder of systems and the applier of theoretical models. 2.1% of total population.

Jung Personality Test (similar to Myers-Briggs/MBTI)

You Are 70% Weird

You're so weird, you think you're *totally* normal. Right? But you wig out even the biggest of circus freaks!

At long last....

Been a while since I mentioned the newest members of our dysfunctional cohabitation, but I've finally removed all the pics off the phone. So without further (or maybe just a teeny bit less than usual) ado I give you:

Pi (a.k.a Piewackett)

Phi (prounounced Fee, a.k.a Feeny) with a side of Pi

And for anyone wondering if Sir Conner of the Large Buttocks will be able to survive obscene doses of cuteness and the occassional wet nose in the hiney region:

The disturbingly white lump is a very sleepy and apparently pillow-esque (no fat jokes!) Conner (he's more a polar-bear dingy in real life).

Going to post the rest here:

Fuzziness Incarnate