So, I was shopping for miscellaneous learning supplies, because that's pretty much what you do when it's nearly time to go back to your learning for another fun-filled semester.
And, well, it's never actually fun, because it's so carefully timed to coincide with (a) small children going back to school, and (b) everyone else working on being a right pain. And succeeding.
Seriously, these people all make me want to find some kind of aerosol spray version of necrotising fasciitis1. You want to block the aisle? Flesh-eating bacteria! You want to hold everyone up to argue about five cents difference on a price? Flesh-eating bacteria! You want to crowd thoroughfares in a cluster of utterly unrelated mobile phone conversations? Congratulations, here's your fasciitis necroticans, enjoy. You'd like to run into me with a trolley2? Come closer, there's enough flesh-eating bacteria to go round4. Please, don't shove, otherwise everyone gets microbial death.
So, what news is there today?
Firstly, Borders had Gneil's Don't Panic, which I immediately wanted to buy, then didn't, because I wouldn't have had the moneythingies to do so. However! It will be bought in the not-too-distant future (ie, after Lady Friday is out. And if my opportunity to buy it clashes with the release of White Night, then Don't Panic will just have to wait.)
Which reminds me!
So, yes. Also, apparently, escalator etiquette in the modern world is such that you only stand to one side when the second half of the escalator has broken down, and thus everyone has to walk up. Doing so in single-file? Actually not helpful, though it would've been good on the part that was still moving.
And then, then there was the psychotic bus driver, whose sole contribution to this entry will be his attempt to crash and kill us all. He was - apparently - unsuccessful, unless I am, in fact, dead, and all the ills of my day prior to that trip were a kind of advance payment on hell.
So, that was my day. About the only good part is that I seem to have developed a new approach for rapid-deployment nakedness, inasmuch that I can successfully arrange my clothes so that the simple act of stopping inside my room (and, sometimes, shrugging slightly) can make them fall off. There are benefits to this approach, not least among which the fact that I get to use the phrase 'rapid-deployment nakedness'.
And now, footnotes, though you've probably already read them all anyway.7
And, well, it's never actually fun, because it's so carefully timed to coincide with (a) small children going back to school, and (b) everyone else working on being a right pain. And succeeding.
Seriously, these people all make me want to find some kind of aerosol spray version of necrotising fasciitis1. You want to block the aisle? Flesh-eating bacteria! You want to hold everyone up to argue about five cents difference on a price? Flesh-eating bacteria! You want to crowd thoroughfares in a cluster of utterly unrelated mobile phone conversations? Congratulations, here's your fasciitis necroticans, enjoy. You'd like to run into me with a trolley2? Come closer, there's enough flesh-eating bacteria to go round4. Please, don't shove, otherwise everyone gets microbial death.
So, what news is there today?
Firstly, Borders had Gneil's Don't Panic, which I immediately wanted to buy, then didn't, because I wouldn't have had the moneythingies to do so. However! It will be bought in the not-too-distant future (ie, after Lady Friday is out. And if my opportunity to buy it clashes with the release of White Night, then Don't Panic will just have to wait.)
Which reminds me!
Dear man in bookstore,
it's ok. Really. In fact, I'm happy that you've finally shown to me that I have no need of physical space in which to exist. Certainly, it made my day that you didn't bother with so much as a word before deciding that the only way to transport your oh-so-important self to other bookstore locales was right through that spot where I was standing.
If you're planning a repeat performance, it may even contribute to my happiness to know you'd tried to similarly shove your way past, say, a sugaro cactus. Of course, I'd have to demand pictures for that one; I've never seen an ethereally nonexistent cactus before, and it'd be wondrous to examine a photographic record of your cactaceous6 endeavours.
With vanishing regards,active_apathy
PS: Could I maybe interest you in a nice, fresh vial of necrotising fasciitis?
So, yes. Also, apparently, escalator etiquette in the modern world is such that you only stand to one side when the second half of the escalator has broken down, and thus everyone has to walk up. Doing so in single-file? Actually not helpful, though it would've been good on the part that was still moving.
And then, then there was the psychotic bus driver, whose sole contribution to this entry will be his attempt to crash and kill us all. He was - apparently - unsuccessful, unless I am, in fact, dead, and all the ills of my day prior to that trip were a kind of advance payment on hell.
So, that was my day. About the only good part is that I seem to have developed a new approach for rapid-deployment nakedness, inasmuch that I can successfully arrange my clothes so that the simple act of stopping inside my room (and, sometimes, shrugging slightly) can make them fall off. There are benefits to this approach, not least among which the fact that I get to use the phrase 'rapid-deployment nakedness'.
And now, footnotes, though you've probably already read them all anyway.7
- I'm moderately obsessed with it at the moment, possibly because it has a strangely cute name for something that will do its level best to kill you in no time at all.
- Seriously3. My leg still hurts.
- ... I blame Shonda Rhimes. At least I'm not (yet?) using "too much water under the thing or whatever".
- And I just looked this up to see whether it was properly 'go around', 'go 'round' or 'go round'. And my source was inconclusive, which means I need to find an idiom dictionary5.
- Oh, yes. They exist.
- I'm not sure whether I can actually use this as an adverb, but I couldn't find a proper adverbial form for 'cactus', so it was a choice of 'cactaceous' or 'cactoid', and 'cactaceous' sounds much better. Cactoid - to be perfectly honest - sounds like a name for some spiny green superhero whose superpower is standing in the desert for long periods of time.
- The little superscripted numbers tend to have that effect. Indirectly, this also means that the end of my post is actually at the end of my post. Curious.
