an encounter of the midget kind.

I was wandering around the campus all "I'm WAY more badass than all of youz.", when this tiny little guy comes up to me! I thought he was a child at first, until I noticed the five-day-old shave and the bald spot. But he'd shaved his whole head, so I guess I wasn't supposed to notice that only parts of it had grown back.
he was hard to understand, because I'm not very fluent in Midget, but it turns out he was pissed because I hit on his girl. Me? Hit on someone's girl? Nosir. I explained it to him thusly: "you're obviously ... very short, and balding.. but I have no fucking clue what you're talking about." at which point he proceeded to kick me. IN THE SHINS. then he just ran off! asshole. I hate little people.
Yeah, so that was my day in a nutshell. if you're a midget and this has offended you, good. maybe next time you won't kick an innocent stranger in the shins and run off, you sadistically bite-sized miscreants.

Aaaahh, fuck you all.

God, I'm so fucking bored. And tired. I got no fucking sleep last night, thanks to some asshole who snuck into my yard and tried stealing my phonebook.
See, I don't use phonebooks. They just don't work for me. But the city thinks I desire a phonebook, despite several attempts on my part to dissuade them of this belief, so I get one every fucking week. I don't think they even update it every week. I think they update it every few months. So why the fuck am I getting one every week? Fucking bastards!
Anyways, I don't always pick up my phonebook which I don't use as soon as I see it, so it'll usually sit out a couple days before I throw it in the trash. Does this mean I don't want to throw it in the trash? Does this mean I wish to not be given the opportunity to throw it in the trash? No. No it does not. Well, partially. I don't really want to deal with it, but I do like throwing things away, because I know it's all going to some landfill somewhere that'll help kill our fragile ecosystem. So I was understandably a little pissed when I saw some jackass sneak a meter and a half into my lawn (in clear view of the sign reading 'trespassers will be shot, and i will sell their delicious organs to the mexicans down the street'), grab my phonebook, and slink off. Man! Outrageous! What kind of city is this, where it's not safe to leave your phonebook on your lawn for a few days? I grabbed my shotgun and sprang for the door, kicked it down (okay, that wasn't neccessary, but it was pretty cool, this is why I replaced the thick oak door with a cheap plywood one) and began the hunt!
That wily little hobo thought he was gonna get away because it was dark out, but I outsmarted him. He got a block and a half away before I slammed into him with my* car - didn't count on headlights, didja buddy? - and recovered my phonebook. I had such a sense of like, uh, what's the feeling you get when you do good deeds? Well, whatever that's called, I had that feeling in spades. This has led me to believe that maybe I should try becoming a cop. I mean, how many people can chase down and hit a fleeing hobo in a hotwired chevvy? I would be like, the best cop everr.
But, yeah. Sadly, I was so happy about getting back my phonebook that I didn't follow through and sell his delicious organs to the mexicans down the street. I bet they went for a walk later and were like, "A hoboful of delicioso organs! mama mia! senorita! tortillia no mas! pour que, pour que!" and shit... I never get the credit I deserve for these things. Anyways, I went home, put the phonebook back in the imprint of dead grass on the lawn, and couldn't get back to sleep 'cuz I jjust kept thinkin'... what if someone was out there trying to steal my phonebook before I got a chance to throw it away? So I made popcorn and watched Night of the Living Dead, I always think the ending to that is so funny (but I won't ruin it because you guys probably haven't watched it yet.. aren't I nice? Yet another reason I'd be a good cop. Oh well, fuck you guys, the black guy leaves the basement and gets shot).



*finders keepers.

Terrorized by a rat, or opposum, or something.

Okay, so every fucking night since I moved here, some creature has been crawling through my walls. It's only late at night, when there's no longer movement in the house, and the lights are all off, and it always crawls right up the wall beside my bed. I don't know what the fuck it is! I don't know how it got in there!
I want it dead so bad!
Seriously. This little bastard. It wakes me up like seven or eight times in the night. One time I picked up a 20lb weight and was considering hurling it at the noise in the wall. I decided against it, because it could be a raccoon, and those bastards are eerily clever, and instead of killing it I might just really, really piss it off, and incur its rabies-fuelled bloodlust, but yeah.

Ugh. I'm wearing headphones when I go to sleep until I figure out a way to kill that thing.
It can crawl through my walls, but it cannot crawl through... my freedom.