Call the psychological police, 'cause it's a mind assault!

A brief list of things I'm never doing again:


  • Logging in to update this dumb thing at home and forgetting to log out, thus preventing me from updating this dumb thing at work and thereby causing me to destroy brain cells reading the inanity of bash.org and the latest edition of Something Awful's Weekend Web This week's edition was truly worse than The Matrix Reloaded and Ralph Nader combined.

  • Eating at Silvergreens. This used to be the best place to eat in Isla Vista, but as I earlier lamented, they took the best of their sandwiches off the menu and I just discovered that they no longer even offer my favorite POTATO. Christ Jesus!

  • Going to Java Jones's open mic night. Granted, the Tom Green look-alike guitar regular has his moments, but the rest of the lineup is generally made up of genuine emo-types reading poems with names like—I am not making this up—"Smokers on My Patio," and people who should never be let near a guitar unless they were the final line of defense against a recently revived Hitler who is acutely allergic to frets. Some day I am going to get Jack Johnson, Ben Harper, John Mayer, a cougar, a puma and a mountain lion all lined up together so I can rid the world of their influence with one shot.

Yeah, I've just about had it with those darn mountain cats.

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