Post-Modern Drunk: Scientists Are Jerks
My original title for this article was "Scientists are Assholes," but I figured Mr. Robot and all those out there whose parents read happyrobot would object to my polluting the front page with seemingly needless profanity.

Still, I reserve the right to festoon my blog with profanity. So I repeat, scientists are assholes. First, there was that whole "kill us all by opening a black hole" debacle back in September, and now, well, there's this leap second bullshit.

It should be no surprise to most of my regular readers when I say that 2008 was a pretty shitty year for me. Sure, it started off fairly nice. I've been living with Giff for a couple of years, I"ve spent a lot of my free time getting really into biking. We had five cats living with us at the beginning of the year, which we've since pruned down to two (the kittens and the mother found new homes with people who hopefully love them and don't have to lock them in a room separate from the other cats, like we did). I did a 180 mile three day bike ride in Maine, which was fun, followed by a week in the Catskills, which was even more enjoyable and chafed less.

Yeah, up until the beginning of July, 2008 showed promise.

Then it was revealed that I had lupus. Then the lupus got worse.

Then somehow the mixed connective tissue disease joined the lupus.

Somewhere around that time I took a lovely little ambulance ride to the hospital, and they started performing extraordinarily painful tests on me.

Finally, they figured out that I was suffering from staph infective endocarditis. Sometime after that they decided that the best way to handle that was to cut open my chest, cut up my ribs, and scrap the shit off of my heart. They decided I didn't need a pig heart to replace sections of my own, which is I guess the high point of that experience.

Then they kept me in the hospital for an additional ten weeks, for rehab and because, by virtue of being in the hospital, I kept getting additional illnesses, like something questionably wrong with my liver, then something questionably wrong with my kidneys, and then a potentially fatal antibiotic-resistant urinary tract infection that would probably have killed me if it'd moved from my urinary tract to my lungs. Instead, it just means that I never ever want to drink another cranberry juice for as long as I lived.

And then they let me out of the hospital, strong enough to walk to the bathroom but not precisely strong enough to handle a set of stairs in or out of my apartment, pretty much confining me to my apartment for the next month.

And that's where I am right now. And what do those fuckwad scientists do about this? They decide to add another fucking second to this year. As if this fucking piece of shit year needed another second. It's already had too many fucking seconds as it is. 31,536,000 seconds of 2008 are at least a couple million seconds too many for this year.

Let's just leap the fuck right into 2009 and leave this shitty year behind, okay?

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