27 May 2011


In my non-palatial autotel roomette, there is a hot air dryer. An insanely powerful, automatic hot air dryer; none of that "press button, receive bacon" stuff. Just hold your hands or even head under it and it starts up like a baby jet engine.

In point of fact, there's only one label on it:What?

I was a little afraid to put my hands under it. Y'know, for a group of people so concerned about clarity they all sound like itinerant elocution instructors, sometimes I have no idea what Edgers -- even the ex- ones on Frothup -- are attempting to communicate.