Saturday night we went to outer space. We visited the sun, known as Mohegan. Rather than spill the details of smoke filled Wolf Dens, a $3 Krispy Kreme at 1am while holding a cigarette in the other hand, the my robotic arm that learned how to go crank crank, I suggest you read the 3rd Arm account. Despite the fact that I look absolutely hiteous in his gimpage, which is only slightly different from the reality of the night, it’s a story well told.
My favorite part of the pre-gambling frenzy was sitting in Ghandi, an Indian restaurant in Central Square. Eliot had just ordered some poppy seed soup. After some weird conversation that I headed regarding a ex-junkie living with my ex-friends who are associated with my ex-boyfriend (exodus!), the soup arrived. It seemed as though the fine Indian cooks had replaced the poppy seeds with store bought coconut flakes. To say the least, this soup was weird and was only a small hint of what was to come…a gabash of Indian buffet items in small stainless steel petri dishes, contained in a larger more life-size stainless steel banana boat. It was this experience that propelled Eliot to lean head-first across the table and say, “Let’s go to the casino!”
Like I said, keep an eye on the 3rd rail. Watch out or it’ll shock ya!
I’m sitting at my computer, wearing a headset connected to the Skype network. There is a female voice robot on the other line trying to help me with my broken cell phone. She doesn’t understand so I said, “Operator, operator!”. Finally, she said, “Okay okay, calm down. I’ll transfer you to a representative.” Thank goodness.
My cell phone has been on the fritz for a while now. I can use the phone as it’s own entity because the microphone that I talk in to is broken and sometimes dead. My Mum got me a headset earbug for Christmas, and that was a temporary solution to a permanent problem. See, I just flipped some words of wisdom that my high school guidance had written on his chalkboard. During my four years of high school, I read this phrase, oh probably a thousand times:
Suicide: A permanent solution to a temporary problem.
I always questioned the word “solution” as part of that phrase. Holy coffee soda! I mean, the wrong person could read that and think “oh, great a permanent solution!” But obviously, the message is in there somewhere, right? Don’t kill yourself.
Something happened while I was sleeping last night. Maybe it was that whole playing Scrabble in bed thing. I woke up feeling really really mellow. Not like “oh yea, this is so mellow man…”, just a serious inner peace. I was speaking in full sentences, complete thoughts within seconds of awakening. Usually this takes at least 30 minutes to take affect. Last night I was shot down. See, I played Scrabble with Eliot. We even used the extra board lift so that we could put the board on the bed, but still have it spin around.
I was off to a great start. It was a close game for the first 75% of it. Then towards the end, Eliot’s whipping out 30 pointers, 40 pointers, left and right! Yes, Eliot won the game. The final score was 289 (C) to 341 (E). Really what pushed him ahead was “Tranq”. I would of liked to give him a tranq alright! But seriously, I got utterly bitter from losing for a few minutes there, but then succeeded that Eliot really is The King of Scrabble.
So, Ima keep training, like Rocky when he has to fight Clubber Lang. I pity the fool! Shoot, did I really say that?
And in today’s Robot news…
Man Battles a Robot - The Munchkin Master of Ping Pong
NASA’s Sensory Technology, Dancing with a Ballerina
A dead cat in Germany was diagnosed with the deadlybird flu.I know ya’ll be buying organic eggs. And don’t say we didn’t warn you. You heard it first from the Biz.
