i can hear it now.

the upstairs neighbours' smoke alarm is going off, much like ours does for the tiniest bit of steam from the oven. i fucking hate that thing, the CNN of smoke detectors.

it's a good wednesday, aside from the line of bites on my neck, i'm sitting here updating my 'home files' to begin work while sipping some coffee. i picked up a half pound at the place at bloor/bathurst last night on my way to French class and the aroma kept wafting past my face ever few minutes. i really wanted to brew a pot when i got home, but i opted for a bottle of wine and a brew instead. good plan! it made con-air ten times as amazing as it already is... john malkapee really enunciates, and nicholas cage has some bizarre pro-authority drive to help the same system that fucked him over and made him miss his daughters entire infancy and childhood. i love movies that teach you how to act, i mean, who wouldn't worship an inefficient, unjust system? well, john malkapee and danny trejo. but they both end up horribly, horribly dead, so what does that tell you?

sorry if i spoiled it for you. the bad guys die.

feeling a bit paranoid right now, i got bitten by a bed bug or something recently, but we don't have a problem at home, so i am wondering if it hid in my sweater from the gym, or crawled on from the subway. paranoia! who needs pot?

i s'pose i should finish designing these bumper stickers.

peace.