Dear Temperature Control:
Do you know what PITA is? It's a cute acronym for Pain in the Ass. That's you.
You know we just need some heat for a coil, right? You're overkill, and likely the first giant overkill of many others to come, as we are gradually forced to vape off something more complicated than cell phones, tablets or desktop computers.
Ohhhhh, a DRY HIT. The horror. You know how Big Boys and Girls guard against dry hits? Keep their wicks wet. I thought all boys and girls loved doing that.
See, Temperature Control, I have a significant other, and she likes you. I lovingly take care of her rebuilding needs. I even roll with the punches when Kanger changes their stupid attys every three months. But then you waltz into the picture with your redundant Bells and Whistles.
I had just gotten rid of all our wicks and wires except for two gauges of Kanthal and one type of cotton. Life was great. Now I have to dive into all these extra resistances and requirements and fussy things that you force between the battery and coil. And for what? Something that our friend Ohm and his Law were doing just fine on their own.
I'm sure you're sitting in that stupid mod of hers, laughing, as you watch me buy new wires, an ohm meter, and a jig, just to keep my sanity. And I'm sure you love having private time with her, since I'm stuck in the other room watching video after video trying to figure you out, and all the extra garbage you drag into the picture.
I was into Regulated. Now I'm just Agitated. But what do you care? I'm the odd man out in this mess. But just so you know, I got an old-school non-TC box today, with two giant batteries, just to spite you. I'm not just blowing out smoke rings. I'm blowing out smoke words, and they say TC BLOWS. (Note that little play on words there? Probably not. Because you're stupid.) I took a picture of those words next to my bare ass. The ass with the pain in it. The pain that is you.
Thanks for nothing,
-lh
Do you know what PITA is? It's a cute acronym for Pain in the Ass. That's you.
You know we just need some heat for a coil, right? You're overkill, and likely the first giant overkill of many others to come, as we are gradually forced to vape off something more complicated than cell phones, tablets or desktop computers.
Ohhhhh, a DRY HIT. The horror. You know how Big Boys and Girls guard against dry hits? Keep their wicks wet. I thought all boys and girls loved doing that.
See, Temperature Control, I have a significant other, and she likes you. I lovingly take care of her rebuilding needs. I even roll with the punches when Kanger changes their stupid attys every three months. But then you waltz into the picture with your redundant Bells and Whistles.
I had just gotten rid of all our wicks and wires except for two gauges of Kanthal and one type of cotton. Life was great. Now I have to dive into all these extra resistances and requirements and fussy things that you force between the battery and coil. And for what? Something that our friend Ohm and his Law were doing just fine on their own.
I'm sure you're sitting in that stupid mod of hers, laughing, as you watch me buy new wires, an ohm meter, and a jig, just to keep my sanity. And I'm sure you love having private time with her, since I'm stuck in the other room watching video after video trying to figure you out, and all the extra garbage you drag into the picture.
I was into Regulated. Now I'm just Agitated. But what do you care? I'm the odd man out in this mess. But just so you know, I got an old-school non-TC box today, with two giant batteries, just to spite you. I'm not just blowing out smoke rings. I'm blowing out smoke words, and they say TC BLOWS. (Note that little play on words there? Probably not. Because you're stupid.) I took a picture of those words next to my bare ass. The ass with the pain in it. The pain that is you.
Thanks for nothing,
-lh