The plane got back to SFO, and a tired Michael Arrington disembarked. Cheap airfare was a real enablr for Arrington’s business. He could go and hang out with startups, and meet some really nice chicks in the Airset.
He got in to the car and flickred the radio on and tuned it to the last.fm station on the dial. It was ideal radiotime. Sometimes the music really can fluctu8 too much, but this wasn’t the usual grat.uito.us crap you find on FM radio which pushes people to buy and iPod and turn it upto11.
As he was driving, he pulled over to the McDonalds drive-thru and decided to order a cheese burger. He pulled up and winded his window down.
"Simpy, Chuquet blurb rrove! Get me a wobblog you qype!"
The voice hesitated and then responded.
"I’m sorry, sir, we are out of that."
"I’ll have McNuggets instead. And bring it here fastr than last time, or I’ll beat your ookles in you dimewise sxip!"
Back on the road, he tucked in. "These are del.icio.us!" he thought to himself. Usually they’re foul, but something must have kept his ikarma levels up. He’d stuck to the 9rules he’d learnt from Mozes.
At the end of the day, even if he spends all of his time climbing the blogladder and hanging out with people with lifetypes, at the end of the day he sits back and enjoys a crazyegg, a quick beer and a hackoff to pics of Lulu. He’s only human after all.
—Tom Morris
Was man so alles findet, wenn man mal nach Qype sucht.