Yesterday was another sick day, sorta. I did the rolling for one half of the living room, and the edging for the other half. Went home, watched some of Bernie's romantic comedies - which sucked - and passed out.
Not as sick today, but still feeling pretty down. The living room looks great - very yellow. Bernie started on peeling off all the tape, in preparation for getting ready to do the trim, and I removed all the wallpaper from the nasty bathroom. Mold, crud, bad wall. Yuck. Went to the Depot to get a bunch of stuff - again - including a new water heater. Ours is busted, and we've given up on the tankless, so I just got a new forty gallon gas heater, and the guy working the aisle came over and installed it for eighty bucks less than the regular store installers would have charged to do it, so, sweet.
Dave and Mel came over to check the place out and get some food - we drove up to this place way up north that has New York style pizza, and it ruled. Hung out for a while, got the dirt on all the derby and rock star stuff, came home, worked, rested.
We're having a disagreement about how to do the bathroom. We're pretty much decided on tiling, since the wall is so assy, but I want to do some cellular automata patterns on the wall, and Bernie is so not into it. So, I threw together a little Flash application that does simple 1-dimensional CAs, and Bernie can pick which one she likes in the morning. I get the feeling that this is going to be leveraged into a compromise somewhere else, so it better look really cool...
Yesterday was sort of a wash. Woke up with a head full of snot, got some coffee from Jo's, went over to paint around noon. I did one half of one of the ceilings, then pretty much fell over. Way too sick to do that crap. So, Bernie took me back to the apartment and made me rest, then went back and did the other half. I was in and out all day. Suck.
Bernie got me a book about stuff for a present. Yay presents.
Hey, there's party people puking in the courtyard. Classy. Plus, we can hear the upstairs neighbors fighting about the chick's job. Bernie thinks she's a stripper, and I think she's right. Woo!
So, Ijust woke up again - still full of snot - and I'm going to try to get the walls done today, so we can move stuff in this weekend. I hope I'm well enough to move most of it myself. If not, we hire movers. Bah.
Wow, painting celilings is no fun at all. Especially when they're as messed up as ours are. On the plus side, we have DSL now. Yay speakeasy!
Took a rest and had us some lunch at Threadgill's. I swear, they have the best Buffalo-style chicken fingers outside of Buffalo.
There's some religious tension going on in the IRC channel that I hang out in with the kids back in California, and associated crew. I don't think I'm helping. Makes for interesting conversations, but I think some people are getting genuinely pissed. Well. Let's have a story, then.
One christmas, when I was a little kid, maybe six or seven, my mother brought me a christmas card to sign for my cousin Mike. He's a couple of years younger than I am, and we were pretty much like brothers throughout our childhood. Anyway, the card was just something simple, with a picture of the baby Jesus in a cradle or something. I didn't want to sign the card, I told my mother, because I knew that he wouldn't like it. "Why not?" she asked. "Because Jesus is stupid!" I think I got in trouble for that. The end.
Here's the other side of that story. I'm just slightly younger, and my little sister and I are at some "family haircut" type place to get, you guessed it, a haircut. Maybe it was someplace where a friend of my mom's worked or something. Anyway, I was being a kid, fooling around and climbing on the chairs while I waited for my turn. I'm sure I was told to cut it out, but hey, I was a little kid. Eventually, I slipped and fell, and banged myself somewhere, and it hurt. This is the sympathy I got from mom: "That's God's way of punishing you for misbehaving." Thanks, God.
Back to the present day, I think we're having a "not made here" problem at the new house. All the old stuff sucks, and we have to totally re-do everything ourselves, so it doesn't suck. This is obviously impractical, and prohibitively expensive. We'll see what happens.
Oh yeah, and my fucking Black Christmas DVD was all fucked up. Couldn't watch the last 10 minutes, which are sort of important to a movie like this. Fucking Netflix.
This morning, I woke up around 5:30 am, with my head in a block of snot concrete. Steamed my sorry ass for a while to loosen stuff up, read for a couple of hours, and went back to bed.
Later on, it was back to the house, where I took apart the ceiling fans so we could clean and paint around them on the ceiling. Next up, more taping, sanding, and filling holes with spackle. Then, yet another trip to Home Depot; I know where everything is now, so as long as I use the self-checkout, I don't have to actually interact with any primates there, which is good.
Our rat guy came by, gave us a bug treatment, set traps, and told us that we have a leaky roof, just in time for a killer-ass thunderstorm tonight. Looks like it might hold for a while, though, so, we'll see how that goes.
Had dinner at Magnolia, watched some big lightning strikes all around, and had a nice little walk home trough the storm.
So, I'm not hungry any more, but now I'm tired, sick, wet, and full. I think a movie is in order, then beds. Putting in Black Christmas. Mmmm, young Margot Kidder.
This just in: the policy that the sellers had to take out doesn't cover the roof. Looks like we get to fix the roof ourselves. Yay. Plus, i think we decided not to get the tankless water heater - we can only find one or two people willing to even think about installing it, and then it'll cost like a thousand bucks, plus $500 for the heater itself, and hey! We can spend all that money on the roof now! Oh, joy.
Just Guns is gone. I don't know where to, but it ain't there no more. Sad day in Austin.
We got up and puttered a bit today, then went over to have a send-off lunch for Rich with Dave and Mel at Hill's Cafe, down the street. Super nice weather today, so we sat outside and had corn nuggets and fried stuff. Yummy tasty. Mr. Dean is on a train back to San Francisco tonight, but I wouldn't be surprised if he showed up down here again sometime soon, on a more permanent basis. There's some tricky stuff going on that might snag a plan like that up, but sometimes these things just work out. Anyway, it'll be fun to get more folks from the old town to move down this way. Come on, slackers! What are you hanging around in that chilly old ghost town for? Git on down heah!
After recovering from lunch a bit, it was more prep work on the living room at the new house. I ran out to the depot again to get some supplies, and Bernie stayed home and scrubbed. I finished transporting our massive media stash to the new place, and went over the walls and ceiling again to rinse off all the nasty, slippery TSP before we go to town. Tomorrow is all about spackle and sanding, getting our paint, and then we start for real.
Plus, we started doing laundry at the new place. Laundry. Inside! Very exciting.
On the entertainment front - because I've got so much free time right now - there are a few good games coming up. I'm hearing more good things about Metroid Prime, and the new Zelda games should be showing up pretty soon. Plus, Midnight Club 2 looks ruling, which means that I need to get that network adaptor thing hooked up, too. All this also means that I really need to get cracking on my payoff games, so I can sleep with a clear conscience.
But man, i'm tired.
Today was more moving boxes and cleaning. Bernie scrubbed the rest of the walls in the living room, and I finished bringing over all the books and games, and most of the media. We've probably got around 30 or 40 heavy boxes of those - if I didn't learn that little carrying stacks of boxes on my back from our previous mover guys, I'd be completely flat on my ass from a splintered back at this point.
We cut out our daily toil early today, though, to do the annual Oscars party at the Alamo Drafthouse. The Mr. Sinus guys split up between three theaters, and ran funny clips of various nominees and winners during commercial breaks. Plus, beer, fried food, and tasty desserts. We were in the theater with Jerm, who provided color commentary throughout the event, and lead us in singalongs and contests and stuff. Mel won the big prize ($100 gift certificate and a little trophy) for picking the most winners! We also got some sweet photos of Jerm in his Daredevil pants.
If you actually care about what happened at the Oscars, you're looking in the wrong place, because I don't. It was fun, but that was mostly because we were all hanging out drinkin' beer and having a hoot at the theater. Plus, boobies. Oh, yeah. My new plan is to win myself an Oscar so I can make out with Halle Berry on live television. That is all.
Oh, yeah, one more thing. Michael Moore ruled.
Man, being sick sucks. It sucks twice as much when you're supposed to be cleaning and moving and stuff. We're getting started on prepping the new living room for painting; yesterday, we had lunch with our friend Kyra, who gave us her advice about colors and all that. Mmmm, Habana. Later on, I carried about half a ton of books over there, and started removing crap that we didn't want, like some nasty shelves that were bolted onto the wall with stripped screws, and some really nice outlet and light switch face plates. Filthy miniblinds, nails, hooks, all gone. Meanwhile, Bernie is getting down with the TSP, scrubbing the walls clean for the primer and paint. It's ugly and dirty, but it needs to get done.
Meanwhile, my throat is raw and scratchy, and I think that phase two of the nasty cold that's been going around is hitting me. Starting to get the chills, and more phlegm and the hurting and the bad language and the glavin. Perfect for working around dirt and dust and industrial cleaning solutions. And carrying heavy stuff. Ah, well, at least I'll get to rest sometime soon. AAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
One of our other pressing tasks is getting the water heater replaced. The current one is pretty old and corroded, and I wouldn't trust it not to explode or something further than I can throw it - and it's pretty heavy, so that's not far. So, we want to get one of those snazzy new tankless water heaters - they're a good chunk more to start off with, but they save a lot of money, so it should pay for itself within a few years, plus there's no tank to explode or anything, and it takes up a lot less space. We've found a couple of major hardware supply stores (which shall remain nameless) that carry them, but nobody is willing to even consider installing them. This bothers me for two reasons: first off, this indicates to me that this is "unsupported" technology, which might cause problems later on if something goes blooey - even though it's been around for decades - and second, I'm beginning to think that we might have to install it ourselves. I've been doing a bit of research, and as far as I can tell, it's a pretty standard install - you got your water, you got your gas, you plug it all in, and it goes, just like a regular tank heater. I'm wondering what is so strange and different about these that scare all the burly plumber-men away. Well, I guess we'll just have to give it a shot and find out...
Lawrence Lessig is an excellent speaker.
Watching his keynote about copyright and the Creative Commons at SXSw today, I had a little epiphany about the way I speak. Most of the time, I talk really fast, with a good deal of mumbling and a little bit of stuttering thrown in here and there. I fall over my own words, and punctuate my thoughts with a lot of "uhhh" and "ummmm". Lessig speaks slowly, clearly, and purposefully, with a pacing and cadence that captures an audience, because he prepares his thoughts, and believes in his message. I stumble all over myself because I generally don't know what my message is, if I ever have a message. I speak quickly so as to get across some basic idea, getting it over as soon as I can, taking up as little of the listener's time as possible. Usually, this just results in my sounding like an ass.
So, how about that war?
Anyhoo. We started moving stuff into the new house today. Comic books are really heavy, it turns out. I got about a dozen boxes of books and some miscellaneous stuff in there, but even though we had a carpet cleaner come in and give the place a once-over, it still smells pretty doggy, so we picked up some more cleaning supplies on our daily trip to Home Depot today to see what we can do about that.
Speaking of which, I got that "Home Improvement 1-2-3" book of theirs, and it's pretty cool. I stayed up all night last night flipping through it, and I'm feeling a lot more confident about the level of the projects we're talking about taking on with the new place. Removing wallpaper, painting all the rooms, maybe replacing carpet, installing a tankless water heater, tiling the kitchen and the front walk, removing and replacing doors, building bookshelves, rewiring and adding sockets to the bathroom, running some network cables, maybe opening up a closet wall to make a little reading area... Yeah, we got stuff to do now. But first, the moving.
I got a new camera. I love it. Plus, I just got my taxes done, and the combination of not making any money last year, moving and working out of my home office got me a nice refund, so I can actually afford it. So, yay my new tax guy.
We've been pretty busy lately, if you hadn't noticed, and we haven't been getting to the gym at all. We're both getting poochy and tired. Mmmm. Next week, maybe. I'm thinking of trying to run some. Maybe not. We'll see.
Two technical asides. Majcher.com is currently graciously hosted by Phil, in the little closet under his stairs. Once we get DSL hooked up in the new house next week, and give it a little time to settle down, I'll be transferring everything to a server there, so. Also, my eyes are getting really bad - I've got an eye doctor appointment in a few weeks, but it's really bugging me now. As such, I may not be proofreading as well as I could as I go along, so if you find a typo, keep it to your damn self. Jeez.
Dear Mr. Bush:
I am very disappointed in you.
You are a hypocrite, a criminal, a liar, and a coward. You are greedy, ignorant, superstitious, arrogant, and cold-hearted. You are an embarrassment to everything this country stands for. You are petty, vengeful, and short-sighted. You are a danger to yourself and others. You are a murderer.
You are fucking FIRED.
Congratulations. We are now as bad as they are.
Good night. Wake me up when it's all over.
''If the nation escalates to "red alert," which is the highest in the
color-coded readiness against terror, you will be assumed by
authorities to be the enemy if you so much as venture outside your
home, the state's anti-terror czar says.''
''A red alert would also tear away virtually all personal freedoms to
move about and associate.''
I'm starting to get seriously worried that they're not going to allow elections next time around.
God dammit. We have no hot water at the apartment. They say that the bottom fell out of the hot water heater, and it'll be a day or so before they can get it fixed. This is the same hot water heater that we've been complaining about for SIX FUCKING MONTHS, and they've been totally ignoring us. Well, la-di-da. I'm so freakin' surprised.
Hey! We've got a shower at our new house! With two shower heads! And another one, outside, in the back yard! Hmm.... maybe I should have lit that pilot light...
And the leafblowers. God, I hate them. Every other day, too early for me. Two of 'em, screaming next to our window, driving us crazy with the noise and the fumes.
Real soon now. Real soon.
We picked up the keys to our new house last night, and spent the day arranging for the rat exterminators, carpet cleaners, and DSL installers to do their thing. The Southwest Bell guy gave Bernie a hard time about being a commie pinko liberal. Then we dropped in on Mel, heard horror stories from the roller derby, and picked up a bunch of boxes for packing. Then we went to Threadgill's for some fried stuff and icebox chocolate pie. Then we went to Home Depot to scope out house stuff, and I remembered that we had 8pm tickets for Mamma Mia!, so we hightailed it over to campus to catch that. I've seen better musicals. Chicago, f'rinstance, to name a recent one. Now I need stuff for my throat, which still sucks. Did I mention that I caught Bernie's cold? Go figure.
Oh, yeah, and there's some war thing going on, but I'm totally not paying attention to that. It just pisses me off.
Back at SXSW. Woke up late, caught the end of Eric Meyer's talk on CSS. (And other guys, but I wasn't aware enough to catch who. They seemed like the type to get bent out of shape if they were forgotten, too.) Next, some panel discussion on freelancing, consulting, going solo, being a hired gun, and all that. Pretty interesting, as that's what I've been doing for the last couple of years.
We took the middle of the day off to go close on our new house. WOOOOT!
The sellers are taking an extra week to move all their stuff out, and in return, they're leaving the washer and dryer, and a bunch of other stuff. They're also floating us a couple thousand dollars to do repairs they didn't get to, so, nice. We are SO EXCITED to get the hell out of the apartment and into the house. Not even funny.
So, back to the convention. I went to a panel about being a porn webmaster. Some of you may not know this, but I have, on occasion, worked on porn sites. I may be working on a porn site again in the future. These people were lame. They might be "pornographers", but not the kind of pornographers I know. Maybe I'm spoiled from living around all the preverts in San Francisco, but gimme a break. They sounded more like Amway salesmen (and women) than purveyors of smut. It was all about getting traffic, and having a whole network of crappy sites, and shuffling users around, and getting a large number of tiny commissions from someone else's stuff. Some of them actually said that pop-up ads were good. I just wanted to stand up and scream, "You're not making porn! You're making porn SUCK!" So, I didn't go to their party afterwards.
We did, however, manage to get to the Austin Game Developers meeting at some sort of Vegas/Chuck E. Cheese type of place called Dave and Buster's. I've never heard of it before, but apparently, it's some big thing. Anyway, Josh Hall gave a nice talk about how inventory management systems in RPGs influenced how he packed his luggage, and there was some lively, intelligent, and interesting discussion afterwards. Which was pretty cool, given that there were about a hundred geeks in the room from various fields. I felt a bit out of my league, but still very comfortable amongst the kindred gamers. Plus, I won some swag in a raffle. "Marc Majcher, Buckshot Media". Yep, that's my card.
Dave and Rich Dean showed up there about halfway through, we had some snacks, and then I skipped out - I was planning on trying the SXSW party thing again, but I got home and just sort of slumped into a comfortable chair, played with Flash a little bit, and went to sleep. Zzzzz.
The lineup, in brief:
Cyc. Ruling. Best shot at Skynet, they're in Austin, and they're hiring. Now, if I could only remember all that first-order predicate calculus stuff from school...
Dave showed us an awesome Mongolian Barbecue place near the convention center for lunch. Ruling. Super tasty, but I put half a dozen different kinds of hot things in mine, and wound up burning a hole through my stomach. Ow.
After the nerd stuff, we headed to Elysium for a party celebrating something about the Texas Rollergirls movie that's wrapping up. From what I've seen, it's not much to celebrate, but hey, rollergirls. Drunk rollergirls! Woo! The event was also catered by a new 24-hour place opening up next to the Continental Club, so, ruling.
Beer happened, and then we went to a divey little hole in the wall Mexican place around the corner from Dave and Mel's to get some grease to soak up the alcohol. I'm sort of off Mexican food these days, but it was still pretty ruling. Mel put the ketchup song on the jukebox, whatever that is. It was supposed to stick in my head and drive me crazy, but I probably couldn't recognize it if I heard it again. So, yay booze and beans.
Woke up with whiskey gut. Ow. I recovered a bit this morning, and got out to the big show.
The first day's keynote was Dave Weinberger, most recently of the Cluetrain Manifesto fame. He was okay. His overall message was pretty hard to argue with ( the web == good ), but his presentation was a bit rough for a delicate flower like myself. He also took about a third of his time to take totally uncalled for potshots at Ray Kurzweil, which really turned me off from whatever else he had to say.
The next set of panels wasn't all that interesting to me - women artists working the web to make scratch, "user-centered design", some smell-o-vision talk - but after those, I got to see Kevin Warwick show off all his wacky cyborg stuff. Very entertaining talk, even if he is a complete kook - in the best possible way, of course. He's a bit of a media hound, and I don't think that what he's doing is all the revolutionary, but it's something at least, and I'm glad that someone is doing it and getting the word out.
Afterwards, the plan was for Bernie to go home and get over the end of her cold, and for me to try to hit three different parties and shmooze a bit, see if I could do that whole "networking" thing. Turns out, I'm really, really bad at that. The first party was over at Milkshake Media - they are way too hip for the likes of me. Reminded me of the Good Old Days(tm) in San Francisco. But hey, they had free milkshakes, and cotton candy, and designer babes everywhere, so it wasn't all knock. Dave and Rich were already there when I showed up, and Bernie actually turned around and made a showing, too! I was pretty happy to see familiar faces there, and we all got tired of the over-hipness in pretty short order, and bailed.
Bernie and I headed home, regrouped, and grabbed some dinner at Magnolia Cafe with Dave, Mel, Rich, his lady friend Alex, and derby girl Li'Kitty Split, who was travelling incognito. Tired, food good. Plus, new AAF comic! Yay!
Tonight was the first night of the "interactive" portion of the South By Southwest conference. Richard Stallman was speaking tonight about, oh, I don't know, probably free software or something, but we blew it off.
Our bud Rich Dean is in town, staying in Dave and Mel's swanko back house. He's scoping out the town to see if he wants to move down here or not. (Well, duh.) We all got together and had dinner at an "Irish pub" in town, Mother Egan's. You'll note the sneer quotes. As far as I can tell, the only things that are required for an establishment to be called an "Irish pub" in this town are serving Guinness, and beomg full of drunk yuppies drooling on their little shamrock coasters or whatever. I ordered a black and tan, and the waitress gave me a look like I had just asked for a daschund pita and some warm goat's milk. "We don't serve that here. This is Texas!" Uh, okay, whatever, "lassie". But the food was tasty, and we ordered ourselves some of their famous deep-fried snickers bars for dessert. Oh, man. So, that made up for the lame attitude, and how.
Afterwards, we went and saw Jerm play at the Carousel Lounge, a circus-themed bar over in East Austin. They only serve beer, but they let you bring your own booze and serve you set-ups, so we brought a big ol' bottle of Bushmill's and pretty much had that. The show was full of rocking. The band before Jerm was The Greatest American Heros, who play only covers of television show theme songs. Jerm coaxed the drummer up to play with him - and one of the horn players, for a song - and it was magic. You could tell that it was true love from the first beat. Best Show Ever.
I'm not entirely sure how they got there, but I'm pretty positive that there's a couple of weasels in my stomach, and from the way it feels, it seems like they're pretty pissed off to be in there.
I'm also 100% confident that this apartment is pure evil, and wants us dead.
Last week, I picked up Purple Rain for ten bucks, and we watched it last night. Prince still rules, but the movie doesn't age all that well. And, of course, all through the Darling Nikki bit, all I could think was, "Fucking Tipper Gore".
I dunno which is worse, having a goverment that treats its citizens like criminals, or having a government that treats its citizens like three-year-olds.
Ah, well. Off to pick up my SXSW stuff, do the dumb things I gotta do, then go see Stallman rant. Hoot.
I think it was sometime during high school that something broke.
I remember it fairly clearly; it was spring in Fairport, a little suburb of Rochester, NY, and it was still chilly and muddy outside. In P.E. class, softball was up on the menu of Fun Things For Kids To Do, so out we trooped into the cold muck, to the small diamond up on the edge of campus. Coach Jacobi must have been feeling feisty that day, and made a big show of throwing fast balls to the kids who yelled and mocked when someone came up to bat, and pitching fair to those who just went up and took a swing. It was a meduim-small class, so I got up there a good number of times, between jogging back and forth from the line at the batter's cage and the damp outfield, where I could do the least damage. Bad depth perception or something, I guess.
A bit more than halfway through the game, there I was again, hanging on to this unfamiliar piece of lumber, just waiting to get a single or a foul or whatever, just get it over with and get back in line. I looked over at first base, the kid there was in the class above or below me, I don't remember, but tall, on the swim team, or basketball, or something. Sort of a prick. Coach pitched me a good ball, and I cracked it straight down, and straight down the middle, right up to the mound, where he bent over and scooped it up almost before my bat hit the ground.
I started off towards first base. Slowly. I looked over at the pitcher's mound; Coach had the ball in hand, waiting for me to approach the base before he easily threw me out, as I'd seen him do to a dozen other kids that afternoon. "Run!" he yelled, and swept his arm, motioning towards the base. I stopped. People started hollering a bit more. The kid on first: "Come on!" Everyone else, my team, the other team: "Run! Come on! RUN! GO!" I walked about halfway, close enough for the agitated first baseman to hear me when I spoke loudly, "It doesn't matter..." Then I turned around, and went back to the line behind the cage.
Why run, if it doesn't matter? Why make an ass out of yourself trying, when you've already lost?
The locker room was not a friendly place after that game. Everyone was furious that I didn't play their little game right. I was amazed at how offended people got when you didn't make a production out of making a valiant effort towards a futile end. Well, let 'em be furious. I'm not playing that game any more. I think I skipped most of my P.E. classes after that. I'd gone to enough so that I could just get a passing grade, even if I never showed up again.
I just got tired of running, when it didn't matter.
I can't wait to get of this apartment. Have I mentioned that lately?
Around three in the morning, I woke up. Our walls are pretty darn thin in this place (not "solid concrete and totally quiet", as we were told when we moved in), and we can pretty much hear every word that our neighbors say. And hey, it turns out that when those white trash cracker shitbags come home at 3AM, drunk off their asses, yelling and screaming at each other, we can hear that, too!
So, we got out of bed and just sat and listened for a while. It was pretty brutal - I'm still not sure exactly what the precise point of contention was, but people were getting thrown around, slamming things, and screaming bloody murder. After the girl crying "Get the hell out of my house!" and "Don't you fucking touch me!" a few more times, we decided to suck it up and call the cops. Neither of us are real big fans of getting the police involved in things, especially a little noise complaint, but I'd feel like a pretty big creep if the chick upstairs was really being beat up, and we didn't do anything about it. I had more than my share of that as a teenager, huddling together with my sister upstairs, listening to my mom and stepfather scream at each other all night, coming downstairs and finding the kitchen completely destroyed, finding blood stains on the walls the next day, and just waiting for it to go away, or waiting to go away myself. Oh, yeah, and the nights when I'd be started awake by his sorry drunk ass hovering over my bed in the middle of the night, ranting and threatening to kill me if I didn't stop doing whatever the hell he thought I was doing wrong. So, yeah, not real cool with the fucktards getting crazy on the womens.
Bernie made the call to 911, and got right through, and the cops showed up maybe two or three minutes later. Not bad for a friday night in a city, so yay, Austin. The cops banged on the door, and then the window; the Springer show upstairs was pretty slow answering them, and they got pretty quiet. The guy apparently had quite a bit of blood on him - he claims it was from a fight that he walked away from while they were out, but who can say. When things finally started getting straightened out, we heard cuffs go on somebody - turns out that Mr. Charming had a warrant out for him, so off he went. The whole time, the woman was telling the officers that he didn't do anything, and that he's a good guy, and blah blah blah. I swear, it was just like Bill Hicks talking about COPS.
Well, at least it was quiet for the rest of the night - not that it did me a whole lot of good, as I was still pretty wound up, and they pretty much ruined the first good night of sleep that I was getting in a while. Fuckers. Well, only a couple more weeks, and they can rot in their own filth. So out of here.