Thursday, November 10, 2005

Well, dear reader, it appears our conversation shipped overseas yesterday and, to be more precise, went very above sea level. It’s a vicarious enjoyment I seek, however, because Cloud will load on my computer, and that’s the extent of its industry. The game runs like shit, though I suppose that’s nobody’s fault but my own. I was able to maneuver the sickly hero right through the flippin’ firmament, in what may have been either a hidden feature or a symptom of a crappy computer.

I received a voicemail from a customer–it was a man or a woman, I couldn’t quite tell–who demanded a prompt callback, except he/she/it didn’t leave a phone number. This type of stupidity isn’t enumerated in any human lexicon, nor is it quarantined in the phone system. I felt dumber simply for having heard the message.

After work today I followed a police cruiser for a good stretch of the highway. Nothing extraordinary, right? Its license plate number was also “666.” That encapsulates this week pretty well, actually.