For instance, in the dank armpit of this past saturday morning, I spelunked into a vast and lifeless 'net crater. Along the impact site lay elaborate stone cairns, like Stonehenge, frilly moss gaping through their rough cut cracks and injured spines, hairy middle-aged monoliths lost to this post-apocalyptic dot-com domain. The forum was silent but for the threadbare lines of green and blue energy humming all around. I delved deeper in fascination. Suddenly high-pitched catcalls exploded all around me:

" 133+!! 0 // 9 u R 50 f|<1|/9 114 // 4!!"

The incoherence pelted me like hailstones. Pygmy Caucasian boys surrounded me, crouched and growling. These were Quakers, teenage boys frozen in time by too little English, too many first-person shooters. I had a feeling I was that boar from Lord of the Flies, for they angrily jiggled their tiny spears up in my face. Kneeling down in pain, silence lifted my head. From among them came a man, a bald Cyber Freak with a black 'Pi' symbol t-shirt. He handed me a book, a guide to the "Leet" dialect. I learned of their people, their damned annoying ways, earning their respect. I then murdered them all and had tea with crumpets.

But not everything I've done has been dumbass related. In only a day and a quarter, Jen comes to visit me!! She'll be staying from the 5th until the 10th of September. I'm really excited. I get to take her around and prove that LA isn't the cesspool of bad traffic and smog that people think it is. We'll sit and talk and snuggle and laugh our asses off at stupid, very stupid things. After all she's dealt with at home and work these past two weeks, I hope I can make her feel happy and welcome. Jen deserves to unwind.

In preparation for the landing, my mom moved out her work desk and computer into the newly renovated garage. "Eh, I meant to move stuff around anyway," she said with a smile. I love that woman when she isn't going nuts. Unfortunately, Gran has been pushing both of us in that direction. She means well...people above the age of 50 ALWAYS "mean well"...but asking my mom to tell me how to rearrange my room seems silly. She and her live-in boyfriend Scott told her before that I'm a big boy now...but I can understand. Her affectionate nit-picking is kinda cute in a disturbing, amusing way.

Nothing yet about the jobs, which isn't amusing but borders on dumbass. I'll keep waiting on the frontal lobe guy at Vanderbilt and the taste/smell preferences woman at Monell in Pittsburg. I'll keep looking elsewhere, but bugger me if I can find something that fits with my interest that doesn't require a Ph.D. Someday in the future I'll find something suitable. Just takes patience...yup...lots of patience.

Heh, I deserve to unwind.

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