Tits amighty, I love a good whiteboard. The only thing more heady than the tremendous potential for illustrated imagination are the sweet vapours of the purple dry erase marker. It's taken me an exorbitant amount of time, but I've finally got my grubby hands on my own white whale, whiteboards for my living space. It's the most wondrous thing in the world. Hours whirl by like bubbles on a playful breeze as I wrestle my ideas into hieroglyphic submission on the melamine
Of course, seldom do the idea progress beyond
that, so every day I wake up to a brightly coloured monolith that stands in stark tribute to my perpetual procrastination, an all-pervasive talisman of my own self-defeat in bright pastels, but hey, at least the doodling is a good time.
"Tits amighty?" Is that too livid? Ah well, stay true, dear reader, that's hardly the worst your eyes will see today.
Tomorrow, I'm hopin' to make the weekly pilgrimage to Fat Burger
on the way to the Game Dev Club meetup. It's impossible for me not to, in a large way, resent that establish. It has entirely too much personality
. The d馗or is that of a 50's diner. Classic rock anthems pour like syrup through the radio. On request for the eponymous Fat Burger
, the order is actually shouted across to the cooks, who shout it back. I am not a man who deals well with humanity
as a concept, so suffice it so say, I'm looking forward to the day where our meals are a nutrient-rich paste delivered door-to-door. That said, I'm jonesing for this burger, man, you don't even know.
LOOK WHO CAME: