I hate almost all mainstream book awards because they’ll generally pick the top five most boring-ass books about white men having mid-life crises published in the past year, meanwhile absolutely wonderful so-called genre books are completely ignored.

In my opinion, the best book of last year was Jo Walton’s Among Others. It was far better than at least two of the books on the NBA list that I’ve also read. Far, far better, really.

It pisses me off to no end that Walton’s masterpiece is ignored just because it had some fairies, but Eggers’ somnambulistic male midlife crisis book-curse of the month club is chosen.

Makes no damn sense.

I would bite the heads off kittens for a 27”+ monitor with the PPI of my iPad.

How awesome that would be is nearly incalculable. Not biting the heads off kittens. The monitor.

The one thing I dislike most about my current job – and really, any IT job — is that when you are the “smart guy” you get to be the shit-sweeper.

Everyone gets to screw everything up with wild abandon, but you, ah you are the one who is supposed to be always there to fix it.

I’d rather not be known as the “smart guy,” but once everyone figures out that you can clean up their messes, they then feel that you have the obligation and the absolute requirement to do so.

Guess it means I’ll always have a job if I want one, at least.