Derp

I am the worst :( Click to embiggen

From here: http://yes.thatcan.be/my/next/tweet/

C’est la vie : : : Now I feel like this I just spelled it is, Laura is to remain in my mouth hahahaha, oh?

Spreading it sounds dirty when I wake up in my boxer shorts. SO you saying stuff that man all bad!

But it was never I just came into james spader no, that’s a lawsuit : : hahahahahahahaha please tell you!

KEVMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! *shakes fist* what I shall fettuccine alfredo, then you!

Rpdr? herp durr? YOU GETTING PAY CHANNELS? you search for sex to confuse me? sweet. I need to 12!

… I kind of a fucking crazy dentist! I think. I answered correctly, then!

Tome out after sending my head, too! also I ride the best one yet a fucking crazy dentist! I beat her.

I have favorited when we were gay I wake up in the tweet to be inappropriate?

Thanks :D My right mindset for sex to be inappropriate? I said diddly about my style I prefer penis let’s?

I have crafted this resolution : Now I shall fettuccine alfredo, then dip chips into salsa.

Each inhalation brought the stench of desperation deeper into my lungs. My tongue, my nose: long since sepukkued themselves into oblivion in a suicidal protest of the olfactorial travesty. In a response born from the fear of blindness—stenchy-blindness—my bronchial tubes sprouted sensory organs of their own, and there was definitely desperation in the air, in my lungs. My fists clenched tighter. The veins racing up and down my arms distended audibly: a million tiny blood cells screaming for sweet escape. And I heaved again.

That immediate post-heave gasp for air filled my lungs, my brain, with the stench again. “Where is that coming from?” Spittle dripped from my mouth and I looked into the toilet bowl.

“Ah,” a realization extended its spidery legs, found purchase, and hoisted itself into my brain as I peered down into the once-white abyss. It wasn’t desperation, it was tequila… an honest mistake.

Making some cookies for this girl I know.
Getting off my ass, going to the sto’.
Chocolate, PB, and some other things,
Cookies good enough for some dang ol’ kings.

On the way back home, stoppin’ for my fix,
That means Santanas for a number six.
Rest of the night will be trance and baking,
Then into bed, excited ‘bout waking.

Shenanigans with brits, Wednesday morning,
Mimosa ambush, give ‘em no warning.
This is getting dumb, so I guess I’ll stop.
And get to work, ‘stead o’ writin’ this slop.

I think a good story would be about a famous physicist who is very close to a breakthrough with time travel. And an interviewer is asking him questions, and asks why he decided to get into science and he explains that when he was 8 years old a man appeared out of nowhere and told him, in no uncertain terms, that he would lead a terrible life.

The man told him that he would be on the streets, nearly starving every day, selling his body for money to support his drug habit. The man told him that the reason he knew these things was because *he* was him from the future, and things were going to be TERRIBLE. The 8 year old pre-scientist would laugh at this man and call him names, but the old man’s penetrating stare would stay with this 8 year old as he grew up.

Eventually, after losing his job and house, he would remember this stare and the portents that came along with it. He began obsessing over it as he slipped deeper into poverty, malnutrition, and prostitution. He came to hate this “stranger” with all the fiber of his being, wishing evil, evil things upon them before eventually realizing that the only cure for this unhealthy hatred was to spread it. To find that “stranger”—which he believed could in fact be himself—and ruin their life as his had been ruined. With this plan, and a scientific background based on having watched Quantum Leap and Back to the Future, he is inspired in his dreams and becomes enlightened (maybe this is a book about god or religion now).

He finds his way to a school that will accept him and works his way up “through the ranks of professordom” and starts putting his theories into practice and all that stuff. And then maybe at the end he gets what he’s wanted all along and travels back in time and releases all his self-hatred upon his young self. Or, maybe if we want a more depressing but deeper movie, he realizes that he only did that to himself to spur himself to greatness, and also realizes that he now has to do that to himself to create this future, even though he loves himself, and it is with regret that he travels back in time to yell at himself and ruin the life of this poor child.

Also since he was a prostitute for a while he should probably have some STDs, so that the plot doesn’t get stale and “too sceincy,” and also probably lots of nudity to keep me interested.

Also I’m really on a Gremlins kick at the moment, so if this could have that IP tied in somehow that would be really awesome.

I stayed home from work today. The reason, I believe, is because I ate some chicken out of a non-air-tight bag from the freezer that was marked as, “best by April.” For posterity, I will point out that April was about 3 months ago.

My own stupidity aside, I still managed to get some work done. When I finished a rather large task, though, I decided I didn’t want to work any longer. Instead, I would spend a few minutes—just as I had numerous times in the last two days—searching for a song that I’ve had stuck in my head but cannot recall.

The song is trance and has a female vocalist saying something along the lines of, “free your spirit, free your soul.” Only she really, really draws out the “free” parts of that. For reasons possibly pertinent to the mystery of this song, in my head it is associated with “one and one” or “be as one” by Maria Nayler, but I don’t know what that means at all.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t figure out what song I was looking for. I can’t recall any other lyrics (nor am I certain that the lyrics I do recall are even correct), so, after failing to find any leads with my various google searches, I thought it was time for a “shot in the dark.” What’s that? In my case it meant typing in something outrageous into google in the hope that I would find a result. I typed “freeeeeeeeeeee your spirit lyrics” (without quotes) in google.

Nothing useful came up. I realized that with a word so specific as “freeeeeeeeeeee ,” the additional words, “your spirit lyrics,” were probably unnecessary, so I eliminated those from the search query. “freeeeeeeeeeee,” 67,800 hits. Really? That seemed weird to me. I added another e. 73,800 hits?! I was intrigued, I had to know more.

Free has 4,980,000,000 hits on google. Respectable, reasonable. Freee has 8,310,000. A little less reasonable. I wondered where it might end.

That was kind of interesting, especially the jumps. “Free” with 17 Es is at 69,700 hits but 14, 15, and 16 Es are sitting at a paltry 51,800, 42,300, and 29,800 hits. 32 and 46 Es also have little jumps in them.

Determined to find my way to the end, I went onward.

Again with the jumps. This time 28, 32, 38, 40, 45, 46, and 48 were all higher than you’d think they’d be. 48 is the only one that made any sort of sense to me, and that was just b/c that would put “Freee…” at 50 characters total, a reasonable “character limit” someone might impose on an html form field or something. I suppose all other entries are reasonable as well, but “50” seems more round than “34,” certainly.

I couldn’t believe that even at 60 Es in my “Free” I still hadn’t reached the “end.” I had, however, gotten myself temporarily banned from using google, as it thought (correctly) that I was flooding it, and therefore assumed (incorrectly) that I was a robot.

I proceeded slower, this time, confident that the numbers would smooth themselves out.

I was the opposite of correct. Things became even more spikey at this E-Volume. I didn’t check all the results, but presumably there was a lot of copying and pasting going on, or thread replies, or *something* that could explain this retardation.

Onward, onward I would’ve gone. However once I hit 127 Es, Google was unable to find anything. At first I assumed this was because Google engineers were like, “what? fuck indexing words over 128 letters (126 Es + “Fr”), that’s retarded.” I think I went up to 135, always getting 0 matches before I finally said, “ok, yeah, that’s what it is.”

I was wrong. I went to bing.com so I could “verify,” and typed in a random number of Es in my “Free,” and it worked. That was 137 Es, btw. But then I took that same string and searched google. Sure enough I found a match there, too. But I sure as hell was not going to keep typing this crap into search engines. “I’ll just pretend that I don’t care about anything beyond 126,” suited me just fine.

I’m now wondering if it’s human nature, or the redundant nature of the internet that causes these weird spikes to happen. What other words are similarly stretched out by internet users?

Hilariously enough, at 18 Es google helpfully provided me with this image in my main search results.

I call it, Asscorn, and it is my masterpiece! Also it is 18 Es worth of Free!

Thanks, google!

Anyway, the point of this post is: my brain is stupid for doing this.

[EDIT: Apr 14 2012:

FUCK… YES…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S0sHNLb19u4&hd=1

]

How stupid am I? Trying to work the dryer: I look at my clothes, fresh out of the laundry and soaking, and go, “well, I sure as hell would categorize these as ‘less dry,’” so I set it to that. 5 hours later Morgan says she thinks our dryer is broken because my clothes “weren’t dry at all.”