(no subject)

[den]

The Jag wouldn't start this morning. I opened the bonnet and discovered the next door neighbor had not only stolen the last of my petrol, he'd taken the engine as well. I knew I could probably find him dragging the great awkward lump of metal and pipes down the road to the Cash Converters where he would try to exchange it for today's crack money. I gave Sergeant Brenten a call and told him the guy was armed and a known local cop hater. I guess I won't have to worry about returning that extension cord after all.

Lunch with Brittney, during which I advised the only way she could attain any integrity in the music business was for her to fall on her knees and beg Trent Reznor to let her do backup vocals for his next album. She wept openly.

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