Engel you’re a great guy but…

In a bold move yesturday (laundry day, as opposed to tomorrow, cleaning day) I
have moved all old socks and underwear (the “grippies” according to Jeff
Foxworthy) to a backup drawer, and implemented my new boxers (I got another
four the other day) and socks that Iambe gave me for my birthday a year ago or
so. See, I love my socks, don’t get me wrong, but when they are all slightly
different, and all just a little shorter or longer than each other,
it really stresses me out on laundry day to put things away
and try to figure out which goes with which. I could just throw them all in
together, but then what happens the next morning? Searching for socks! That
just sucks. So implement a homogenious sock collection, where all I need to
do is find two and stick them together and have a happy, matching pair.


Life is good.


I got a call on my cell today at work from <randomguy> from the Sun
asking me if I was a subscriber. I replied with a hushed I didn’t do it I
swear to GOD!
<click>. I like to make other’s lives a little more
surreal ya know?


There were other things I was thinking would be equally fun to say. “Oh my
god, how did you find this number, they said that I’d be safe under this name!
The phone book? Shit, there’s been a leak… I have to go.” or something like
that. [Insert segway to next ramble here]


The new building managers are in. Wee…. they sent around a lovely letter to
all the tenants, basically saying, in a most brisk and rude way, “we are the
lords of this manor and you will do everything we say.” They sited things
like cars having to be parked facing in, and only in their assigned stalls, no
noise, laundry only done between 9am and 10pm, no pets (“no pets are allowed
here, and we have no paper record for any pets allowed here, if you are one of
these people please come to see us immediately”), and other stuff.


See, when I moved in here, Wayne, the way cool manager was here. I said “I
have two cats, is that ok?” He said, “are they inside cats?” “Yes.” “Then
that’s fine, as long as they don’t bother anybody.” That’s my
permission.


I was thinking though, if they did come and bitch about it, a
few deep breaths, fierce, hard clutching of my fists, and a strained voice
saying:


“<deep breath> Well, the doctor said that it was either
<deep breath> get a cat or go back on the <deep breath>
medication for my temper. I guess if you want to make me <deep breath>
get rid of my pets I can go back <extremely strained breath> on the
medication <obvious clenching of fists or clutching of coffee
cup>.”


If they could arrange to come when I’m sharpening my knives (call out to
BradwhomustthinkImdead!) that’d be perfect!


Iambe says that booting someone out (or making them get rid of pets I assume)
is against our constitutional or human rights or something. So I’m not
worried. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the new managers anyway, so as long
as they don’t bother me, I won’t bother them.


Random Thought for the Night:


Happiness is knowing that you went for a workout the night before so you can
sleep in that extra hour in the morning.

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