I’m all about universal, I eat cereal, and both my brothers ride the bus so I’m scant a store’s throw from USB myself, though I refuse to interface with a printer, fax, or digital camera.
I’ve read that USB means Universal Serial Bus, though why they’d spell cereal that way is beyond me. Adults, go figger. They don’t know apples from Newton and they only listen to me when I shriek.
What I do know for sure is that USB is a popular and widely accepted interface between compy’s and anything they want to experience. I’m like a squishy compy with a diaper, so I need my own USB, right?
The way I figure it, my USB is my mouth. Nothing more universal than that, it is “O” where my Cheerios go, which in undeniably cereal. And I’d gladly bite a bus given the chance. Seems to be a perfect match, so I hope I’m not premature in declaring, “ta da!”
Admittiedly, cameras are confused and scanner beds befuddled, but I chalk it up to a hardware problem. I think I need a better driver or something. My current driver is dad and he’s been known to change lanes without signaling. I’m all XP and that behavior ain’t compatible. I’ll do it — don’t tempt me — I’ll upgrade my own dad if it means getting the new version of IE in a tidy, if not illegal, bundle.
Did I mention it’s versatile? Unlike the traditional, rigid rectangle of USB, my progressively toothy cry-hole-pie-hole is roundy and of adjustible aperture, from ping-pong to pinhead. I’ve been busting for busing it all, baby.
Now, if I could figure out what the fax machine is screaming I’d be in business. Of course, the same could be said about Brendan… but that’s a different story.