My throat is silently yelling today. If I could hear it, it would say, “Jogging in Pittsburgh after two months in the Mountains was stupid.” I feel the punishment.
The smoke from last night’s Elise’s Playground show didn’t help at all. Belvedere’s share’s the smoker’s fog with the late Upstage. My morning sit up’s translated to hunger pangs. Now, I’m here having Irish Tea listening to the Last Internationale.
As I try to relax, I start captching up on my Social Media accounts. Captcha’s are a rough fate for social networking. I breeze through them quickly, except for today. I’ve fail 1 in 10 captcha’s. How Lame. To think, it’s just a bunch of distorted letters and on average 7-8 key strokes. Yet being sick, I am unable to efficiently do them. I should just get a cellphone and do the “No More Captcha” plan. Possibly pay a third world national to enter them. Wait! There is a hypothesis in this.
Hypothesis: Captcha fail/success rates are correlated to illness.
Instead of labeling someone as a spammer, Myspace should start saying, “We’ve notice you’ve been failing captcha’s pretty regularly. Please seek medical attention.”
I am seeing a doctor tomorrow.