January 24, 2004

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  I like this picture of me. I think it makes my butt look cute.

  
  

  I feel compelled to write in annie’s absence, if only to affirm the fact that I am not a fat-ass, quite contrary to the image of me that was posted yesterday. I am actually rather petite, with a charming figure and a stunning personality. And although I do enjoy an occasional bite of pizza, in no way have I ever “stuffed my face”. I am deeply offended.

  
  

  While discussing the issue at hand this morning, I suggested that she might possibly be jealous of my keen elegance and superior writing talent, and further threatened to start my own derogatory blog in her dishonor. This was met with more squabbling and petty insults, the absolute withholding of my morning carrot, and then I peed on her socks when she called me ratbutt.

  
  

  I hate being called ratbutt.

  
  

  Apparently she has stomped out of the house because I can’t hear her rustling about in the other room, making kitchen noises and shuffling papers on the table. I am using this moment of solitude to commandeer her computer, set matters straight for my public image, poke around on Ebay, and check on my e-shares.

  
  

  Lettuce, as it turns out, makes a poor investment. No matter.

  
  

  The thing is, I love Annie dearly. Yes, she and I do bicker, like any close companions would. The truth is, though, that I feel it is my duty to look out for her, to educate her in subjects of high intellect, advise her on matters of the heart (bryon was an excellent choice), and make sure she always has someone to come home to. Without me, she might be a fashion disaster in a second rate love affair with no good books to read. Poor thing.

  
  

  The other night, while delicately nibbling on our pizza, we had a rather interesting discussion on the up and coming theories in quantum physics. Annie does not appear to be the sort of person who dabbles in advanced cosmic theory, being prone to wearing her hair in pigtails and suffering overly dramatic episodes, but I would like to advocate for her latent and underlying intellectual genius. Sadly, her brilliance is often grossly underestimated, and I feel sympathetic to this misconception, since I am a mere rodent with transcendent aspirations myself. But i digress.

  
  

  Apparently there is some vague yet compelling evidence that the big bang, as it were, is not a singular inflationary event, and as the theories contrived to support such a model have become more complex, so has its legitimacy. At this point my pigtailed compadre invoked the principle of Occam’s razor, which states that the simplest explanation for a natural phenomena is generally the most accurate. In other words, with everyone flying off the handle over dark matter and extravagant formulae for the assymetrical rate of expansion, all of which seem to have been pulled out of someone’s cosmic bum, physics has lost sight of necessary simplicity. This new idea, which at first seems rather fruity, is based on a concept of multiple universes/dimensions/realities. At first I felt this was all a little too B-movie-ish, but annie kindly pointed out that this is already a familiar aspect of quantum theory. At any rate, these realities are modeled as three-dimensional panels, or membranes, suspended in a matrix of higher dimensions. Every bajillion years or so, these membranes crash against one another, and the resulting collision creates an epic blowout the size and scale of the alleged Big Bang. furthermore, the resulting expansion from this universal conflagration follows the same pattern as physicists have observed in the universe, without the extra frills and theoretical hangers-on.

  
  

  ahh, simplicity. and pizza in my tummy.

  
  

  well, she will be home soon, so alas, i must sign off for now. Later, I think we will have reconciliary carrots and discuss karma.

  
  

  ta ta, my lovelies.

  • 3:42 pm
  • 4 Comments