Who needs a locksmith?
- I finally, after two years of dicking around with it intermittently, beat Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. The final mission is a cocksucker! Breathing a sigh of relief and starting a non-GTA game.
- Last week, I kicked in a locked door. That's right, bitches, I'm a bad-ass motherfucker.
Oh, alright, so it was a mobile home door; that in no way detracts from the overall butchiness of the deed.
- When visiting a friend in the psych hospital the other day, as I sat in the waiting room, I was absent mindedly grooving along to the lite pop being pumped in at a tasteful volume through the waiting room speakers. Then it dawned on me that the current tune was Madonna's Crazy For You. Oh, how appropriate! It was everything I could do not to start giggling, which would have been a bad thing in the psych hospital, seeing as I was sitting alone. I think laughing to myself for no apparent reason is probably best avoided while doctors are watching.
- On that note, I can tell you that if you visit a friend in the psych hospital, and you bring along Play-Doh for her amusement, you will be the most popular person in the rec room.
- Okay, now that I've started in on the psych hospital, why stop?
On the door that takes visitors into the patient area, you have to be buzzed in by a guard. On the visitor side of the door, there is a sign that reads: High risk of elopement. Now, why didn't they just say something like Watch for patient escapees! or They gonna try to get out here! ?
When I see High risk of elopement, all I can picture is a montage of patients in wedding gowns and tuxes made from hospital gowns, busting through the door hand in hand, still repeating their vows of "I love penguins!" and "Hot pink tuba!" as they slip past their captors and escape to a life of wedded, highly medicated bliss.
I guess I'm just a hopeless romantic.
- If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is there to hear it, did it make a sound? I dunno, maybe you should ask those crushed baby squirrels.