Apr
21
2008

The New Yorker Hotel Business Center

This promises high speed internet. This connection is about as high speed as me, in full snow ski wear, running through neck deep Jello while angry ferrets try to gnaw the eyebrows from my forehead.

In other words, it's utter shite. So much so that I'm blogging this on my phone because it is faster. If I could hook the printer to my phone my boarding pass would have been sorted a half hour ago. It's a testament to how much I don't want to have to–

Oh, downloading the driver will take an hour. Fuck it, I'm finding a Kinkos.

Written by Widge in: Travel |

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Widge and his truest friend

This is me.

No, really.

I am a writer, poet, spoken word performer, actor, singer, improviser, content creation and idea machine, freelance iconoclast, and the internet's janitor that dispenses pop culture wisdom to the protagonist of your choice. I have seen too many movies, read too many comic books, and when the zombies finally come, I'm the one you want to call. I sure as hell won't answer the phone, but it's the thought that counts. I advise people on the net, websites and technology, because I know these things instead of having a life or sleeping.

If you like something I've done, donate to the Widge Wants to Kill His Day Job Fund. Or if you'd like to hire me for a job, my rates are terribly reasonable. We thank you.

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