I’m such a fucking ‘tard, I am amazed that I as yet have not had the massive myocardial infarction caused by the angst wrought in retardation.

I am clutching my chest, while my lungs seize right now, though. I just realized that among the references I gave, one of the numbers has a big, old friggin’ typo right there in the area code.

Subconscious self-sabotage? Nothing like a typo in a phone number to show off your fab-u-fucking-lous attention to detail.

Of course, there is a logical explanation. The reference is from a friend I worked with back at that big tech school they have in Cambridge. We were IM’ing in what were the wee hours for him back on the East Coast, and it dawned on me that he would be a fine, fine reference. Honest to god we worked together in both our sort of fledgling laboratory days, and now he has a title and business cards and stuff at a powerful pharmaceutical bizness.

So, if you are IM’ing with a buddy who you know hangs on Yahoo! when he’s put the wife and kiddies to bed and had a beer or two and is just looking to chat or fuck with people’s heads in chat groups, the next day you should confirm the office number he gave you.