January 16th, 2004

agent

Drive by entry

My friend Shawn's car has been all-freaking-over the internet recently. Opinions range from 'L0Z3R' to 'Awesome' to 'his wife has nice tits'. Veep Cheney even stopped to admire his car when he was in town, and there'll be photos of Shawn and his car in the March Wired.

Some jerk almost ran me over today. I walk pretty briskly, and he thought he was gonna make that left in front of me. I walked fast, and he turned anyway. I walked faster to let him get behind me, and he turned even more sharply, like right in to me. Jerk. I sorta jumped out of his way, and he stopped and waved me magnanifuckingmously through. Bastard. If my heart hadn't been pumping so fast, I woulda... I woulda... scolded him harshly. Yeah, that's what.

When I was getting my haircut, there was a baby sitting in the lap of the owner. The baby had a helium balloon in her hand and all she wanted to do was pump her hand up and down rapidly making the balloon bounce. She got it into this funky rhythm where the balloon bounced off her face after every down-pump. It was great.

I have characters for the game tomorrow. Now I just need some adventure. The plot-skeleton is right here in my noodle, but it does no good to anyone in my head. Write it down. Write It Down!

Gonna go buy a dryer.

And eat something.

Ciao.
agent

The voice inside my yedd

And another thing. Why are all male singers so goddamn whiny these days? Whiny lyrics, whiny voice.
I do try to listen to that infernal racket to which youngsters appear to listen with pleasure, and much of it fills me with the violent urge to shut the twerpy motherfucker up. The line in the subject drove me nuts this morning on the drive to work. On the way back, I heard something with some tasty bass and rhythm, and then some whiny git had to go and open his mouth.
Is it just me?
Gonna go listen to my 8-track now.