The Black Book of Discord

"If it wasn't for my horse, I wouldn't have spent that year in college"

I felt like I was in one of those old Bell Atlantic "you should have called" ads today. I went to the local "performance shop" (which is now not so local since I moved to Nashua) to pick up my Superlight Shockproof gear oil for my car. I get to the place, and they are very closed. There is a handwritten sign on the door explaining why. Before I mention what the sign said, I'd like to preface the explanation by saying that, for some odd reason, I wasn't suprised by what the sign said. Perhaps it is because it seems like a "New Hampshire" thing to do, perhaps because it just seems like something the owner of the shop would be into (nice guy BTW). At any rate, the sign said "Store closed. Gone to swap meet. Back tomorrow." It was like something out of a Red Green episode. No big loss- it's too damn cold to play under the car today anyway, and I don't have the drain pan here at the apartment anyway. I need to buy a house.

So tonight, I spent some quality time with some beer. Not just any beer mind you, but beer I helped make. 5 gallons of it (that's about 53 bottles to you and me Russ). Why all the beer- am I a lush? No, I really don't even like the stuff, but I have to admit, it's a good time brewing and bottling it. The rewards (for me) are not as good as when I used to make rum with my brother and his suitemates in a homemade still, but still fairly satisfying knowing you made it yourself. I should have drunk some of that beer tonight, as I'm going insane trying to make a Perl script work- I think I have it beaten. It only took a wooden cricket racquet, two clitorii, one talking Stitch, a Jibba Jabba, and a call to Larry Wall to get it going. Eh, at least I get paid for all this aggravation for once. In other news, it's time for bed- go to sleep... it's nearly 3:30am... go on, you've earned it.

RE: the blog located here http://www.pigeonbiscuit.com/blog/ and the update of Monday, October 07, 2002 I admit it, I'm to blame- but everyone needs a good nickname, and biscuit most certainly makes every word sound better (well, except for biscuit, because biscuitbiscut just sounds wrong). If anyone reading this doesn't think so, I'm afraid you are wrong- it happens to the best of us. In other news, 39 Amherst Street doesn't seem to exist- but don't circle around looking for it late at night, or you'll get followed almost the whole way home by the local constabulatory who are bored for the evening. Looks mighty suspicious turning around twice I surmise. In the completely useless file, I have this for you this evening: I don't know what it's good for, but it caught my eye in the middle of a search for something completely unrelated to "multicolored cartoon guys with their fingers at the corner of their mouth" I assure you. In closing, I leave you with a bit of knowledge- Some people are alive simply because it is illegal to kill them

There we go, updated! And I can't stop being so tall Pigeonbiscuit