Chapter 11 of War of the Worlds contains the phrase "as clouds scud". I was amused.

I got the brakes fixed today - and a damn good thing too, because I had worn through the discs, the rotors, and one caliper. In other words, at the next really hard break I made, I could have been on two wheels. It was expensive, but not as expensive as I expected (Hint: Near University and Dale there is a tiny garage called "Fleet Technologies". The prices are very reasonable (slightly above list for parts + labor), even if there are only two people that speak English. Trust me, it works - and it comes highly recommended)

Luckjohn and I officially christened his new hammer "Grapthar, Slayer of Phones". Remember that old, suck-ass phone we had that kicked in after two rings and had a mechanical voice we couldn't change? Well, we kicked the shit out of it behind the apartment building for about half an hour. (Hint: GE makes a damn sturdy phone) I feel so good having helped kick its ass. One of the speakers will hang on my wall as a war trophy.

The other bad thing about the phone? It would record the message as if it was being played from the future or the past - it was never anywhere near the present. On Sunday, I left a message, and it was dated (April, 5th, 2002). Yeah, it died the good death. The kind where we killed it. Don't worry - we sprinkled its various component pieces over the garbage. Good times, man.

The new phone should come on-line in a day or two. Booyah, yo.