| Evidently it is now rude to leave the computer to take a shower. |
[May. 22nd, 2008|09:06 am] |
[08:28 AM] 9715592: hi ;)
[08:28 AM] *** Auto-response sent to 9715592: Where am I? Who knows?
[08:28 AM] 9715592: :-D
[08:28 AM] 9715592: eou
[08:28 AM] 9715592: íùã
[08:28 AM] 9715592: you
[08:28 AM] 9715592: HamatoKameko
[08:28 AM] 9715592: Hamato Kameko
[08:29 AM] 9715592: Kameko
[08:29 AM] 9715592: Hamato
[08:30 AM] 9715592: bitch
...*snicker* |
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| ...Wow. |
[Apr. 11th, 2008|11:04 am] |
Session Start (285609224:423283385): Fri Apr 11 10:34:00 2008
[10:34 AM] 423283385: ïðèâåò
[10:34 AM] *** Auto-response sent to 423283385: Dreaming of monsters...
[10:35 AM] 423283385: in the sense of what?
[10:35 AM] *** Auto-response sent to 423283385: Dreaming of monsters...
[10:35 AM] HamatoKameko: ...what are you talking about?
[10:36 AM] 423283385: I not monster:-\
[10:36 AM] HamatoKameko: That's called an away message. -_-
[10:38 AM] 423283385: pancake I russian and some word bad understand
[10:38 AM] *** Auto-response sent to 423283385: Dreaming of monsters...
[10:39 AM] HamatoKameko: Stop using a bad translator, idiot. "Dreaming of monsters" is my away message. It means I don't want to talk to you. Go away.
[10:40 AM] 423283385: on horseradish of the gnarl
[10:41 AM] HamatoKameko: ...Okay now you're just screwing with me. |
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| That'll Teach Her. |
[Feb. 9th, 2008|07:22 pm] |
Sometimes life is too perfect for words.
Take yesterday at Wal-Mart. I'm doing a quick round of grocery shopping, grabbing some basics before heading home for my day off today. Wearing black knee-high combat boots, black pants, Lordi "Hard Rock Hallelujah" t-shirt, black hat, studded black leather bracelet that's so wide it's almost a gauntlet (four rows of average-size studs), skull bead bracelets, fingerless studded pleather biker gloves. You know, the usual.
So I'm minding my own business, pushing my cart around a corner, when I pass this woman and her ultra-ultra-conservative young teenage daughter. We're talking zip-up knit sweater, pleated khaki skirt hanging just past her knees, plain canvas skids, hair down, looked like she was probably home-schooled or private-schooled.
She stared at me as we passed. So, being the friendly sort that I am, I smiled. She kept staring, like she was afraid to smile back...
And ran the cart right into her mother.
I barely made it around the corner before bursting into laughter. |
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| ...What the hell just happened? |
[Jan. 25th, 2008|10:05 pm] |
So one of my neighbors has this like, chronic cough, right? So much so that, even with music on, I can generally hear him hacking away, three or four coughs in a row, in his apartment. It can really get to be obnoxious at times, but I can't complain much, because really, there's only so much a person can do about a cough, right?
So this evening, I'm laying half-asleep in my bed, around eight-thirty nine o'clock or so, having slept much of the afternoon in a largely nerve-induced haze. In pajamas and not really dressed to go anywhere more than the drive through for a soda (something I'll be doing as soon as I post this, in fact). The lights are off, the only illumination being from my computer monitor, and there's no music or any other sound coming from the apartment to indicate I'm awake or even home, it's too late in the evening for deliveries, and family members would have at least called before turning up, especially this late. I'm pretty secure in the fact that there's no one around to bug me aside from a phone call. It's cozy and quiet, and I'm half-considering crawling out of bed for a while, but only half.
Then I hear a cough from the sidewalk outside my apartment (my apartment faces the side of the next house; the narrow, private sidewalk runs in between the buildings). No big deal, I assume it's a neighbor and don't think too much of it. Just because the other neighbors don't usually use the back walk since they have other entrances, doesn't mean they aren't entitled to if they choose to.
But then there's a knock on my door. I open my eyes, staring at the windowshades. No one ever knocks on my door, other than the postman and the usual delivery services. And occasionally my mom, though knowing me, she calls ahead of time. I'm not remotely a big fan of unnanounced visitors, because if I'm at home and not at work, I'm more than likely just not making an effort for my appearance. It's my day off or after work and I'm entitled to be lazy. So I ask the obvious question.
(personal information changed to protect the stupid.)
"Who is it?"
"It's Jason. Your neighbor. I live in Apartment 2." That is, the apartment from whence the Coughing From Hell originates.
I groan and roll out of bed... "Just a minute." ...and start looking for a sweatshirt and a headband so I can open the door without giving the guy a heart attack. But he pipes up again.
"It's okay, I just wanted to ask if you have a cigarrette?"
"... No. I don't smoke."
"All right, sorry to bug you."
...what. |
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amused
crappy
baffled