||[Oct. 17th, 2003|03:43 pm]
The American Caliban
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I guess I'm off to disney tonight, since none of the girls I like will let me touch them. pbd and I can ride the teacups and drive the bears wild.
Right now I'm at the Borders at 19th and Newport, watching the craziness that is the rush hour develop. This is one of the busiest corners in town and it's full of yuppies revving their $80,000 luxury cars, poor mexicans in Chevy LUV trucks from 1980, catholic schoolgirls on bikes, cops pulling everyone over, and maniacs. One maniac in particular just shambled out of the bookstore and grabbed an ashtray and is in the corner with it, coughing and hacking.
I made a damned good stirfry last night. I do love hot red peppers. This weekend I want to go to India Sweets & Spices at some point and have Indian food.
I got an email on my Danger from the T-Mobile people telling me to call them because they had remotely diagnosed my phone as sick. It isn't dangerous, they said, but we want to replace it.
For the crime of hubris, the Gods sentenced substitute to this: That he should be intelligent, resourceful, interesting, and neurotic, and that he should remain celibate for one million years while watching his friends score with each other over and over and over. However, he got a really cool cat as a pet.
I still can't extract the audio from these swf files, damnit. Quicktime Pro doesn't seem to want to do anything with them and I can't find a decompiling tool. Grarmpf! Thwarted Geekery. It's really good stuff, too. Many clips of horny guys who think they're leaving messages for hotties. I DEMAND MY SEXUAL SCHADENFREUDE. SOMEONE HELP ME OUT HERE, CHOP CHOP, LET'S GET IT IN GEAR.