I am become cliche

So here I am, in my mid twenties, black plastic glasses, living in a downtown condo with the all the finest Swedish accoutrements, working for a dot com and now... a blog. Before you know it you I'll be looking down my nose at people who don't use obscure browsers and don't get jokes that involve html tags. Luckily, I've purchased a shiny new pistol that I will insert deep into my mouth should I ever find myself looking at someone in the mirror who resembles that e-liteist, self absorbed, pretentious wireframe.

I wish I could put a big red button on the top of my blog that would let you make my computer explode if I ever become the kind of person that makes me hate blogs.

But enough about that. After all, there are an infinite number of things I can pretend to know about other than myself and everyone else.