It's not fair that "I was too sad" is not a valid excuse for missing class.

Had no intarweb last night.

Suck a great deal.

Am monster.

That is all. Notice that I have disabled comments; understand that I did so for a reason. If I have to read a bunch of jumping-to-patpat-me-all-better comments, I'll feel even more depressed.

Friday adventure

Mecha and I went to get food at a bit before 4, when he had to go to work at five, about two stores down from the restaurant we ate at. So when we accidentally took a bit too long eating and didn't have the twenty minutes or so he'd need to get me home and drive back, we figured I'd just hang out at the strip mall till he got a break and could take me home.

I just got home. [about 20 minutes before I finally finished typing this entry.]

For the first hour I sat in the Borders cafe and read a newly-purchased copy of Hicksville which is a comic by Dylan SomethingthatstartswithanH whose name I'm too lazy to go grab the book to type up. Once I had finished it, I went over to Movie Gallery to see if mecha could take me home yet, but he couldn't. So I went back to the bookstore to get myself some more entertainment.

I knew that if I bought another comic I'd wind up spending another 20ish bucks on an hour of entertainment tops, so this time I grabbed one of those sketchbooks that they perpetually have on clearance. However, they weren't selling anything resembling normal pens or pencils, so I walked down the strip mall checking every likely-looking store until I found someplace that would sell me a writing utensil that cost less than, like, seven dollars.

Then I went back to the Borders cafe and sketched in the new sketchbook for an hour. Using the cheap pens from Dollar Tree that smeared horribly, in mockery of my sinister writing nature. (I am left-handed.)

Then I heard what sounded like a playing of Star Wars starting -- the music that plays behind the 20th Century Fox or or whatever logo thing, and then the music that signals the coming of scrolling yellow text. But when I looked around the cafe, expecting to see some people with a laptop being used to play the DVD... nothing. The only laptop there was being typed on, and was not in the same direction as what I was hearing. I... hallucinated Star Wars. Yes.

By this time it was a smidge past 7, so I went back to Movie Gallery and hung around mecha for a while, following him in circles and helping him put things back in the right alphabetically-determined places. Eventually I wound up leaning against the counter, right by the door, next to the dropbox, while he checked things out at the register closest me. So we chatted a bit when it was slow, and a couple times I ran things like forgotten cards out to people so none of the real employees would have to come out from behind the counter.

At about 9:30 it had slowed enough that he could clock out and run me home. The weird thing is, by that point I was starting to have fun just watching the silly people rent their movies.

Highlight of the evening: the woman looking at a copy of the little Movie Gallery magazine thing, who couldn't understand why there was a preplayed-DVD price listed for Mean Girls when it wasn't yet even available for rent. Observe what was so confusing:

OMG -D-U-M-

Mecha actually accidentally charged her 24 cents extra, but she deserved it. She wouldn't let him actually touch her ID, which he needed to enter her name into the computer to find her account. Then when it didn't find her account and he asked her if she had one (because plenty of people without accounts come in), her response was a very snotty "Of course!" So we have declared that the 24 cents was the Total Bitch Tax. Seems fair enough.

In conclusion, feet.