Locks and doors with locks in them

Jams insists that my perseverence in locking my bedroom door is both aggravating and offensive to our house-mate relationship. I have countered this complaint by doing the knock-knock-barge routine to her, the routine which prompted me to utilize the friendly little lock of mine in the first place. You all know the scenario. Someone knocks just long enough for you to let out an unintelligible syllable and then comes on in.

It is perilous.

I'm hoping my campaign of braggarty awkwardness will bring about an age of security, but then I am a bit of a romantic.

I like to cook. I treat marinading chicken as though I am the midwife of deliciousness into the physical realm, and tend to my lovely creations with an affection that utilizes a scrumptious branch of science. Food science. I am, as a matter of fact, only writing as a means of distracting my self from the fact that it is not yet six o'clock and thus presently unseemly to be laying about with pans and produce.

Do you find yourself adopting the mannerisms and speech of whatever author or television series you're currently immersed in? I've been pressing through the archives of Scary Go Round for the past few days and now my brain thinks it's English. I unthinkingly called my (genuinely) English friend Pat "boyo" the other day and he threatened to bring a violent end to my existence.

I can't help it!

On an unrelated point: fuck Scientific American.

Who do those guys think they are? They sling heart-stoppingly amazing headlines around like nobody's business, when nothing interesting (or comprehensible) has actually happened in the world. Seeing "Invisibility Cloak Sees Light of Day" and "First Teleportation Between Light and Matter" floating around their RSS feeds sent me, an openly nerdy man, into immediate fits of apoplexy. Then I read the articles.  Let me assure you of this: their headlines are lies!

An invisibility cloak, eh? This, to a poor little pleib like myself, implies a device that might shroud something and, in doing so, render it invisible.  Invisible - not visible to, you know, vision.  What the SA in fact mean by this is that some scientists somewhere have constructed an unwieldly array of concentric metal circles that can make whatever's in its centre a little bit less easy to see when one is looking at it through the microwave spectrum of light. You can still tell something's there, but it's fudged a bit.  Oooo... invisible.

Yuh huh. Handy! I'll be sure to slap one of those on my person to avoid detection by my enemies' many microwave-based viewing systems. I'll leave it to faith that they won't notice the enormous fiberglass ring orbitting my body.

Teleportation between light and matter sounds like Star Trek teleporters are on their way to production, right? Turns out what happened was scientists shot a laser at another laser, which changed the way a cloud of cesium atoms was vibrating.

...

I am imagining a slovenly Scientific American editor, his haggard skeleton of a body wrapped in a dress shirt and brown clip-on tie, his day old stubble giving way to gravy stains and unnoticed bits of chip. He fancies he is better than the unwashed masses whom lack prestigious posts in important magazines, those people who maybe picked on him when he was a schoolboy. He imagines these lower forms of life as sifting through the internets late at night, clinging to the light of his great publication for word of the greatness of their betters. And this disgusts him. He wants to make anyone who dares enter his supreme corner of the internetverse suffer, and he deftly tempts them into soul-crushing tedium with his shiny, shiny titles. With his left hand he clutches a can of soda, and with his dorito-cheese encrusted right, delivers misery. 

Fuck off, Scientific American!

Tonight's menu includes garlic potatoes and garlic chicken. And widdle grape tomatoes which I'm sure I can work garlic into somehow.

Mmm.