This is DNA. And also a random string of meaningless letters.Whichever does it for you.
At work I have to do the thing where you stand up in front of the people and do the mouth-moving and the sound-producing and hopefully the sense-making too, although in my case the last is dubious.
This is guaranteed to reduce me to a two year old child. I want to blub, I want to stamp my foot and I want to refuse to do it. Because it terrifies me and makes me miserable and is a form of torture so exquisite that the Spanish Inquisition is clearly alive and kicking, cunningly disguised as a Powerpoint presentation.
I know I am resorting to histrionics and being a big baby, but I really really despise public speaking. I get so nervous and my brain freezes. What is the use of that?
Whatever. I can moan forever, but I have to do it and in order to have it ready for Thursday I am working at home, furiously typing "gatgatgat" again and again across my screen, and if you didn't know, that is quite rude in Afrikaans.
This is what I am spending my evening doing, checking my A's, my G's, my C's and my T's and using "Find" to look for naughty words.
And what's worse is, what's worse is that I have a song by Miley Cyrus in my head. Need I say more? No, because she's just being Miley. Excuse me while I go and cough up a furball of despair at my musical repertoire.
Catch you on the flip side of the double helix coil. Hopefully I will find lots and lots of red wine there.