Turkeyphant (turkeyphant) wrote,

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her eyes were made of sequins they lined up just like penguins

Often I walk into my room and sense something's wrong. I haven't overcharged my camera's batteries again, Charlemagne has yet to notice the nails embedded in his pillow and the computer's humming at it's usual pitch, but there's still something amiss. Stepping further into the room reveals what it is and I remember about the b0rken CPU fan on my trusty Athlon. Now, AMD processors are favoured among overclockers due to their high heat resistance but the cooking I've been giving my processor and surrounding silicon can't be doing it much good. Almost every day I forget I have to manually start the fan and, instead, find myself walking into the room only to notice that really-fucking-hot-circuit-board smell in the air. The distinctive odour of phenolic resin, airborne. You know the smell - no smoke, no fire and no sparks of electrolytic capacitor just your trusty box redolent of something rather badly wrong. It just smells like there's something far too hot nearby. The hot board stench comes from nowhere and is suddenly everywhere. Usually I manage to tear off the side panel and furiously waft cool air onto the melting silicon in time to prevent a reboot. Other times I find my frantic efforts aren't quite enough and the machine dies, often for up to thirty minutes at a time. Tense moments are spent sprinkling water onto the inner workings in retarded desperation and bashing the unresponsive power button whist checking the power supply and worrying I'll be missing another hilarious frist psot during the downtime.


In other, slightly related news, Charlemagne's mentality is ever more homoerotic. He polishes his CCF cap, makes passes at any males in the room, touches up Theo or plays with his flies in front of people's faces. One evening he even turned on the gayness after the lights had been switched off and we were both in our respective beds. In typical homophobe fashion, he then immediately reverts to blaming homosexuals for AIDS and accuses anyone with slightly queer behaviour of being a damn fag worthy of burning. Naturally, I delighted in publishing all these exploits on Slashdot until my IP eventually got banned.

One day, when left alone for roughly forty seconds, he got a drawing pin stuck in his ear. This should give you a fairly accurate idea of his mental age and normal demeanour especially as he not only told me immediately (can anyone say "shot in the foot"?) but it also took him several minutes to work out how to remove the offending spiked and rabies infected object from his aural cavity.


A great evening was had when Mr. Dath broke out the beer and treated us to some refreshing drinks on a wonderful and beautiful summer's evening. The lawn was kitted out in plastic chairs and we sat round and chatted. Mr. Dath invited his young son out and we greatly enjoyed ourselves by dissing them both to their oblivious faces a laughing to ourselves for quite a while. I was there with the 6as - Chris, George, Val, Hinnerk and even Eddy D - and we had a great merry time. Other kids were off playing football or watching Big Brother or whatever, but I was just enjoying myself so much simply chatting with friends. I finally found more people I can comfortably be an über geek with. We described everything in mathematical terms, thinking up complex functions to graphically describe everything including conversation intensity. "Use" was replaced with "utilise" whenever possible and there was a tendency toward polysyllables. We wantonly quoted Shakespeare, Marvell and Chaucer and took delight in pedantically pointing out trivial errors in others' syntax. It was joyous.

After a bit of good old cis x arcoth πx  flummery our attention was drawn to the discussion (we modelled its interest against time by y = |e-3 sin x |) that had been going on for several minutes between Abdullah and Mr. Dath. Now, Abdullah is a rich Arab, but that says nothing about him so I'll have to: he's the one person who speaks the absolute greatest quantity of bullshit I've ever come across. Not only that, but he's so dumb he really doesn't realise when it would be beneficial to stop. And so, he happily proffered his radical political theories that had never occurred to anyone before to Mr. Dath who nodded approvingly, stated the obvious, and then gaily added his own modifications and amendments. They sat there, enraptured in each other's genius for about three hours and meanwhile, we were openly cussing them the whole time even though neither seemed to notice. Mr. Dath only brought it to an end when he finished his drink and realised that Abdullah was up about ninety minutes after his designated bed time. We guffawed.

And then, just to seem cool, I stayed up for a couple of hours talking philosophy, economics and science to one of the most intelligent people I've met. My chat with Hinnerk was awkward at times, but we had an utterly enjoyable time revelling in my rank conceit. Afterward, we snuck outside so I could accompany him for a sly cigarette before some gaming and catching a few hours sleep.

For some moments, existence really is almost pleasing.
Tags: kent, king's, pwned, school
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