hashi

Life is strange. Things often don't work out like you expected.

For example, today I expected to work in the lab until five, then go and stack shelves for a few more hours. The lab in question, by the way, is a mezzanine suspended in a huge steel shed over a cleanroom used in making silicon cells. It also shakes distressingly during thunder. I've been spending a certain amount of time watching progress bars fill up, you know.

Then it turned out that I didn't have to go into Quick-e-mart, so I figured I might come home and remind myself what the thrust coefficient is. Instead, it turns out, I'm eating yoghurt raisins with chopsticks.

My eyes feel like there's hair on them.

I thought my 250th post on the Bran Report would be something worth reading. Instead, I'm just thinking about how it will be winding down in sixty days or so. Expect more navel-gazing of that kind later.

I'm going to get some sleep.

American Ballet

I realise that I've been a substandard blogger lately. I don't have a lot of time to sit down these days, what with my sixty-hour weeks and my driving commitment to getting drunk alone in the house. I've drafted a few posts, but I was raised to believe that people don't want to read "Fuck you" copy and pasted a hundred times next to the names of people who have wronged me^1,2.

So I will just say this.

Pro wrestling is functionally equiavlent to kabuki or narrative dance. How is it that I never realised this?

1. Loughborough University, Imago services and the urban planners of Charnwood borough council are all near the top of the list.
2. I was also raised with the belief that swearing was a hallmark of a small vocabularly, as a result of which I command a very small range of swearwords.

Kaccha

So. Boxer-briefs.

I have yet to be convinced.

I should stress that, despite wanting to show off my GCSE in RE¹, what I am wearing are not Kaccha². Just, you know, boxer-briefs.

I am not one to discuss my man-parts on the internet, so I guess I'll just draw this little note to a close. Don't know why I mentioned it.

---

1. A full GCSE, too. I took extra classes, and can say gloss Jihad to The Good Fight with the best of them. Of course, this makes the Express's tubthumping all the more grating since they like to invoke one in order to defeat the other. Hey, guys, do you think maybe it would be peachy-keen to make your newspaper logo a soldier from a religious war? AWESOME.
2. There are three main reasons that it is innacurate to describe them as kaccha. a) Instead of a drawsting they have an elasticated band b) I am a firengi³ c) I'm not wearing them because I'm a member of the Khalsa, or because I've triumphed over lust (I haven't) or even because of the philosophy of martial independance developed by Guru Gobind Singh. I'm wearing because they were cheap⁴ and fulfil all the core functions of underwear.
3. For reference, I am also a Gringo, Gweillo, Gaijin and a Sassenach.
4. Since I bought them in the town market, I assume this is because they fell off the back of a corrupt night-watchman at a Nottingham warehouse.