March 26th, 2007

Boot to the Head

Nice to Meet You, My Name is Chopped Liver

I have had a really crappy day. -.-

As you're probably aware, moving is pretty stressful, particularly when you're a first-time home buyer. So I'm pretty frazzled to begin with, and I have a lot of stuff that needs to get done specifically between now and Tuesday night. In an effort to take some pressure off of myself, and because I was sitting around twiddling my thumbs at work anyway, I took off the afternoon, with the plan of going over to B&N to get some NeverNever and Suburban Jungle scripting done in the café while Laurie finished off her day.

Once there, I was assaulted by morose music, just the thing to perk me up. ¬.¬ Things like "The Way We Were (Suicide-Inducing Remix)" and "Baby, It's You (I Hate Life Edition)". I managed to block this out as best I could and start working, only pausing to repeatedly clean up my frappuccino which for some reason had taken to splorking out around the lid every time I touched it. About fifteen, twenty minutes into this, a pair of what appeared to be wanna-be-intellectuals without any real mental chops showed up and chose the table next to me.

Now you have to realize, in D.C., especially in Tysons, everybody is more important than you. That's just the basic level of rude arrogance that you expect from anyone you encounter. But these two poseurs managed to transcend that and got to the level of "we're so important that you don't exist." First the guy bonked my table while I was drawing without so much as an "excuse me" when he sat down. That's normal D.C. behavior. Then he bonked the table again, nearly knocking it over while laughing like a asthmatic donkey and waving his arms in the air about some comment regarding Sinclair Lewis that he apparently thought was terribly witty.

All without noticing me, of course.

I shifted my table away from the pair of them, erased the errant marks on my script, and started again, trying to block out their loud (and getting louder) conversation, although I was vaguely amused when one of them said, "Wait, what does 'dys ... dystopia' mean?" This only emboldened him to make broader gestures, hitting my table again, while the music shuffled up "Baby, It's You (I Hate Life Edition)" the second time in fifteen minutes.

It was at that point I gave up on B&N. I cleaned up the latest spill from my now half-full frappuccino (Me: "How can you be spilling when you're only half full?" Drink: "*splorch*") and stalked out, muttering under my breath. I drove myself home, changed out of the neck-too-tight work shirt, and sat down in the living room, pulling out the NeverNever scripting notebook again. Absentmindedly, I noticed that my 1/3-full frappuccino had separated a bit, so without thinking, I swirled it around the bottom of the cup.

Frappuccino came shooting out around the edges of the lid like a mocha volcano. -.-

It was at this point that I gave up today as a bad idea. I am now going to go take a nap for half an hour, or at least attempt to.

Strips written? Three.

I have had a really crappy day. -.-

-The Gneech

EDIT: Nap get. Attitude reboot. I think I can face the rest of the day now. ^.^' Sleep gooood.
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Torey Rave

An Awful Day, Redeemed

It's Monday, which means that from 6-8 EST it's time for graveyardgreg's internet radio show, The Graveyard Shift. Tonight, he totally redeemed my day by playing They're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard followed immediately by The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins, which completely cheered me right up! If only he could have followed it up with Legolas doing stunts to Coldplay for no readily apparent reason...

Dinner helped, too ... steak and french fries, yummy. ^.^ This is certainly the first time we've cooked anything in this oven, but judging by its pristine condition and the "burn off the chemicals" smell that emanated from the oven after it heated up, I would venture a guess that it was the first time anybody has cooked anything in it, period. The house's previous owner definitely struck me as a "microwave ramen" kind of guy.

-The Gneech
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