Stalking the Cup O' Noodles

There I was, minding my own business, reading a novel, listening to music, when I hear something go bonk in the kitchen. I figured that it was Ozzy with one of his cat toys. But then my mighty predator comes prancing into the room, looking immensely pleased with himself, a 2.25 ounce Styrofoam, plastic and cardboard Cup O' Noodles clasped in his jaws. I had to chase the little bastard to get it back, too.

And now it occurs to me that I'm going to have to start locking the cupboards ...

We can live beside the ocean

My office is on an upper storey downtown, with a pretty decent view of the waterfront and peninsula. More than ever today, though, I was wishing that I had a decent camera with me, up there: the wind that had been taking down power lines overnight had whipped the normally-placid surface of Puget Sound into a froth, and there were actual breakers crashing churning up against the piers. It looked like we were in Atlantic City or something.

It was quite a sight, although I wouldn't have wanted to be out on a boat in that--or on one of the floating bridges, from what I was hearing about the commute across the Lake. Still: wow.

"Look at 'em, ordinary fucking people, I hate 'em."

Repo Man still makes me laugh my ass off, because of the camp, the sight gags, the soundtrack, and lines like these:

( Cosmic Unconsciousness )

( Goggle-Box Do-Gooders )