It's not like I don't have anything to rant about -- believe me. I will attempt to justify my neglect below*:
*acceptable sentence despite the placement of preposition.
1. Try as I might, I have yet to be successful in pulling extra time out of my ass to put toward blogging.
2. When given the choice between bathing and blogging I have selfishly chosen the former.
3. Senility has crept up on me. I can no longer remember what needs ranting much past the time at which an incident sparks rage. Perhaps such memory loss is due to the rapid swelling of my brain from taking on more information than is recommended. I find myself daily cramming terrabytes of acronyms, software coding requirements, NPV equations, bureaucratic-brown-nosing-diction, and marketing jargon into a brain that was built in 1985 on the DOS platform capable of housing a mere 100 MB. As the facts flow in, the rants flow out along with the knowledge of where I took off my shoes and whether the underwear in the corner are clean or dirty.
4. I spent 20 minutes with a roommate discussing foods that start with C.
5. Second Life.
6. LOST, seasons 1 - 4.
I drink enough caffeine to jumpstart a tank. With every homework problem comes a darker shade in the bags under my eyes. With every early morning call to India, my hair follicles conspire to turn themselves grey. With every day gone by without a workout, the fat cells in my thighs invite their friends to come by and have a beer. And with every hour of lecture comes my liver's unquenchable thirst for a glass of wine.
Dear Lord, I've become my mother.
Oh yes, the joys of the GSM WP. I'd better snag a man quick before I turn into a spinster old hag, albeit an educated and well employed hag. But a hag nonetheless. I'm one bad date away from owning 30 cats.
I've found that if my overloaded mind wishes to retain such frivolous information as a good ranting subject, I have to take a picture, and so I did on the morning of Friday May 14th as I sipped my breakfast Diet Coke at the nearby Pray & Pump gas station/Church. Also known as the Gas & God. And the Faith and Fill. They're pretty much synonymous. (Can't believe I spelled that right the first time).
There are so many things wrong with this ad that I don't even know where to start.
First off, how dare Arco, the crappiest of all crappy gasolines align itself with what it allegedly deems to be the absolute genius of Ancient Greek mathematics. Archimedes and Arco have not a single thing in common. Archimedes was a badass dude that discovered concepts and invented tools that are used today, more than 2000 years past his death. Arco is a crappy gas company whose only claim to fame is a decrepit arena with acoustics akin to the quality of a warm King Cobra.
Second, Mr. Head of Arco Marketing: Do some freaking research, or perhaps, consult Google before you align your flacid marketing campaign with THE WRONG DUDE. Clearly, you, Mr. Arco, are attempting a play on the famed mantra "I think, therefore I am." Well, sir. Let me tell you. It wasn't your buddy Archimedes that coined this one. Nope, not only are you about 2300 KM South West, but you're also about 1800 years off. Try Monsieur Rene Decartes in 17th Century FRANCE with "Je pense, donc Je suis," also commonly known in its Latin translation as "Cogito ergo sum." Way to do your research. Who is buried in Grant's tomb, dumbass?
So congratulations, Arco for making yourself look like a complete idiot. Embrasse mon cul, con.
Yeah, that's French too. In case you couldn't figure that one out.
