Science Fiction Tastes Better This Way.

I've apparently been toiling away at backward land. Like flatland but with all the perceptible dimensions and such but where people nonetheless (some people) try to make 2+2 = a magenta jumpsuit paired with a shocking ability to annoy and discombobulate in the same breath. I worked on one assignment all day yesterday (And I generally wrap up the Saturday NYT crossword in about an hour)(1.) and I am no closer to finishing this assignment than when I started because the "parameters" of the assignment seem to keep changing. Four times if I've kept accurate count and I generally do, but this has just brought me to my knees wondering why I've stepped into this morass.

It's not really as trying as all that I do exaggerate at times. I lost a wee bit of focus listening to The Strand yesterday, and I did have to listen to this appalling man Glenn Beck while necking my burrito, and the vending machine is out of pretzels. These are the real trials in life. Everything else are just amusing obstacles. Games if you will. But when exactly does Glen Beck correct all the errors in fact that seep from his lips? Is that on some other channel I'm missing?

But in light of such obstructionist attitudes of the universe generally I've made some choices. 1.) I'm grabbing a breakfast burrito this morning and I'm eating it in front of anyone who cares to watch. 2.) I bought myself some OG Comme des Garcons perfume and will let mamma snag me some Blenheim Bouquet for c**s*m**s. And finally 3.) I'm not shaving today. Toy with these fates mother effer.
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(1.) I'll admit this is more of a record than a standard.