(no subject)

Who is awesome? I AM AWESOME.

At this point, I think I can say that barring any more broken bones or sudden life crises, I will be able to get signed copies of Nameless to everyone who requested one. It may take a while, but I can print all my postage from work, and the only slight snag is that I need to give international shipments to an actual person. Which, whatever, I'll just swing by the post office once a week once my ankle is healed.

There are about fifty people on the waitlist, but now that I have a system down I ought to be able to do sets of five-to-ten with relative ease. Certainly the US shipments go very fast once I have all the info.

Otherwise all is quiet. I keep trying to map out my Friday Adventure, but it's very complicated and Coworker J keeps interrupting. :P I require clarity and precision in life as well as in googlemaps!

(no subject)

If you are a cabdriver and you step around the guy with the broken leg in order to pick up someone obviously going to the airport -- ie, a likely higher fare -- you are a douche. But I can understand your douchery, because you gotta get paid same as me.

If you are trying to get a cab and see a guy with a broken leg and step around him to get into the cab, you're just an asshole. There's a cab ten feet away meant for you, asshole.

If you are a cabdriver and you pick up a guy with a broken leg and then pull up next to the driver who shunned him and shout at him to be ashamed, you are getting a very large tip.

This is the cabtechism. :D

(no subject)

So, now that my foot's a little better and R's out of some marathon gig week he had, we met up tonight and had a teriyaki chicken festival. The teriyaki ready-to-cook chicken that peapod delivers is nothing to shout over, but it's good stuff nonetheless. Man ate like he hadn't seen food in a week, which given that it's been a week since we've seen each other is possibly true.

And then he told me The Story.

R: So. I have this story, but I have to start at the end.
Sam: I am ready!
R: You know David Carradine?
Sam: The guy from Kung Fu and Kill Bill, he just died, right?
R: Okay. Aaron, the guy I know from LA? This story ends. When he answers his phone two days ago. And it's....the FBI.
Sam: What?
R: And they ask him, sir, what's your relationship to David Carradine?
Sam: Bullshit.

Turns out Aaron did a favour for the guy and thus was one of the numbers in his cellphone when he died, and the FBI wanted to know why. It's a much longer story and I'm not going to tell it, but the upshot is some random dude I know got questioned by the feds in the death of David Carradine.

I swear, this kind of thing only happens around R.

But we had a good night eating chicken and watching Freedom Songs on PBS, and I introduced him to my hot downstairs neighbour and her yellow lab. He's thinking of marrying her. Apparently I have permission to officiate at the wedding.