<< Variety pack | Main | Presenting present presence >>

I'm really reaching the point where I can only blog at work. After spending hours in front of a computer in the sweltering oven of Little House (AKA Alcatraz - our prison uniforms are orange work vests), I can't bring myself to touch the internet once I get home. Well, I can brush against the LAN cables, maybe, but logging into Sympatico makes me physically ill with insanityheatstroke. I'd rather nap instead, blissfully wasting the evening prostrate before the whirring glory of the desk fan. Yes, life is difficult. Life is fucking tough!

Moving on.

If you haven't checked out Dave Alexander's post about Hipster Star Wars, you should give'er. I was an idle collaborator, a circumstantial muse, and the idea of Chewbacca making deafeningly bad indie rock still makes me laugh out loud (LOL, if this were a Livejournal). Anyways, Dave's obsession with hipsters has clearly begun to slide into madness. I'm eager to see what hipster-themed commentary he comes up with next.

Moving on.

If you meet somebody who is exactly yourself, should you embrace them or murder them? Over the last few weeks, my mind has been blown and sewed back together and shattered again by a procession of eerie similarities: extroverts craving solitude, quick to tire of others, Niki Syndrome, bitter hatred of small talk, rare distaste for dogs, weird weird weird. I'm far more of a slut and she's a vigilante bizkid, so it's not flawless, but...

I accused her of researching me and building her story around mine, and she called me lame and suggested that I was ripping her off. If we looked alike, if her eyes weren't ocean green and mine weren't grey sky, I would suspect some kind of cloning tomfoolery.

I think I'm going to kill her tomorrow at lunchtime. Don't tell anybody, okay? Okay.

Posted by Chris at 03:04 PM >> Commentations (3)