Bless me, dark father: I have sinned. I've done it before and I'll do it again.

To the morons who decided it would be a good idea to bring two four-year olds to a frickin' four-hour movie, where they predictably nattered away the entire time: I'm building a time machine right now for the specific purpose of going back in time and sterilizing the both of you. Mad props on the parenting skills, especially you, dad, for getting so fed up with your kids' constant stream of jibba-jabba that you took the bold step of moving to another goddamned seat. What. The. Fuck.

To the deranged bums who somehow wandered into the theatre and spent a good portion of the flick yelling incomprehensible things at the screen, smoking and arguing with each other: you put the "ass" in "class", motherfuckers. Here's hoping you freeze to death.

To my landlord: if you don't get cracking on that toilet problem soon, I'm gonna come down and shit in your bathtub.

To the lack of hot-water in my building this a.m.: you were not what I was looking for after a night of drinking and three hours sleep, but you found me nonetheless. Thank you for further sapping my will to live. When they find me swinging from the track-lights in the kitchen, the note pinned to my chest will blame you.

Finally, to the weather in this town: you freeze my eyelids shut, cause my testes to retreat into my abdominal cavity, and make venturing outside a matter of life or death. What did I ever do to you? Jerk.

(Despite the above dose of vitriol, I'm actually pretty chipper. That could have something to do with the upcoming jaunt to the coast for BSP and SFA or it could be that I'm still drunk.)