there’s this car near where i live. it’s a little something something i don’t know what. it’s ugly though. one of those tricked out jobs where the roughy who drives it attempted to make it look cool but really only ended up with a heap of flat spray-painted metal crap on wheels. across the windshield it says, “woolley outlaws.” cause, you know, it’s so crazy mad like the old west around here. or like harlem. or whatever. but so (howdyalikethatgrammar?) jeremy, my nephew was visiting lil’ bit this summer and he says we ought to go mad and show this town what crazy is *really* like. we should riot. and i was all like, “and what? loot the one store in town? run the one stoplight over and over again?” and he was all, “yeah!” but he’s from california. so what does he know about it? now downtown seattle, they know all about the riots, what with the WTO protests and whatnot. whatnot is just a funny little word.

i’m telling you people. you’ll miss these posts about nothing of any significance when i start sleeping again. significance is also a funny word. significance. is that even spelled right? doesn’t look right.

hmmm. anyway. i hate that car. but you know what? those bumper stickers? the ones that say, “wife and dog missing. reward for dog.” oh my spots and whiskers. those are comic gold! pure. comic. GOLD. i tell you. but not the ones that say, “my boss is a flemish carpenter” what the hell does that even mean? i don’t get it.