tourette's? blame M$

at least once a week i erupt into tourette's fury, throwing scandalous curses willy-nilly, like steve carell getting his chest waxed in 40 Year Old Virgin. my boss is always sympathetic. he knows where i'm at. "working in Word again?" he asks. you betcha. if it's Word, it's a turd. write letters and shit, yo.

so i am delighted by this What If:
microsoft ipod packaging parody

and i'm reminded of something i overheard on a group ride in days of yore, when puddincat and i were still racing:

puddincat: we've got a new teammate.
guy with huge quads: *grunt*
puddincat: his name is tim.
guy with huge quads: *grunt*
puddincat: he's got tourette's.
guy with huge quads: what the fuck is tourette's.

i miss puddin.

fisch was absolutely right about rhythm returning after a month of speedwork: last night's 800s were sublime. descended from 3:18 to 2:55 and left the Queen-to-the-T behind for the last 3.

stella's got her groove back, bitches. and her ass is SORE. (for real.)