Monday, April 30, 2007


At what age does a child have the ability to run full-bore through an apartment (with such heavy steps that I thought the kid lived above me, not below me) but still cries and wails — incessantly? Seriously. This kid will not shut up.

It's been a month of this. SHUT THE FUCK UP.

I used to think the stray cats in heat outside my old apartment produced the absolute worst sound known to man. But they've been absolutely trumped by this kid. And I just don't understand it.

Apparently, I never cried as an infant. Never. Which sounds a bit weird, actually. But my mother insists that I was an abnormally quiet child. No, I didn't start crying until that one night my roommate found me naked, upside down on a fully extended recliner, with an empty dime bag, a nearly empty bottle of whiskey and a tape of Oliver Stone's Nixon playing on the tv. Since then, it's been non-stop. But at least I have the decency to to sob silently!

Now I'm off to plan the perfect murder...totally unrelated, of course.


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