"Did your glasses really just blow right off your head?"
"Yup."
"They're made of fucking metal!"
"This wind is fucking metal."
Arrived in Richland, WA yesterday afternoon; I'll be staying at Gavin's totally-not-a-motel-room apartment for the next few days.
The last couple hundred miles of the drive were through about the most depressing terrain ever.
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This kind of reminds me of the Isaac Asimov book, The Gods Themselves which is partially set in a parallel universe that he constructed in which subatomic nuclear forces were slightly different such that Plutonium-186 was a physically possible isotope. The Wikipedia article on it ends with the wonderful sentence: "Asimov received frequent criticism about his books that they never included aliens or sex, so Asimov included in this book aliens, sex, and alien sex." Trisexual alien sex, mind you, which is 50% kinkier.
Man, am I not getting my RDA of random tangents or something? Propeller.
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