Today’s soundtrack: you’re really lucky, underneath it all
Today at 7:42am: Calling in sick. Heh, heh, heh.


It’s midnight and I just got home. Tonight I saw a guy dressed in a tuxedo walking his dog on Lafayette Street. In an unrelated incident I also saw a Ferrari Maranello.

You know what my favorite sound in the whole world is? The sound of immigrants cursing. I don’t know why. Listening to emphatic, colloquial swearing in accented English makes me feel all warm inside.

Couple days ago I had to take a taxi and the driver was from Roumania. He pronounced it Rrrrroumania. Seemed like an interesting sort so I struck up a conversation with him. He had fairly fascinating stories, punctuated throughout with exclamations of “This fucking guy! You know what this fucking guy say to me? This fucking guy, he crazy piece of shit.”

I gave him a huuuuge tip.

Afterwards I thought about teaching an ESL course, I think it would be fun.

See Spot.

See Spot run.

See Spot run to this fucking guy.

See Spot run to this fucking guy who try to rip me off, because he fucking crazy so I crush him. In Rrrroumania we beat a shit out of guys like this, you know?

In Hapkido yesterday I had to wrestle this big Russian girl. She was pretty but really big. I don’t mean fat, I mean like if you took a normal person then scaled them up in a Xerox machine. She was maybe 141%. We were learning groundfighting techniques and she jacked my shoulder up. I wanted to scream “Nyet! Nyet!”

You know how in every crew of guys there’s always one “gentle giant” who doesn’t know his own strength? The guy who goes to change a light bulb and ends up ripping the light fixture out of the wall? This girl was a female version of that. Oh my fucking shoulder.