Fear not, I neither bring new stories nor an extremely long entry this time. Though I haven't written it yet, and with the way I love to ramble, time could prove me wrong. So it's now 8:05 am and I've been up for oh, 20-30 minutes. That's sad in many regards, the most sad being the fact that it's Saturday, and I do this about every Saturday. Usually by Sunday I can "sleep in" until 8:30 or so. Stupid getting up early for work making me get up early on my days off. Speaking of which, kind of, I might have a job at OfficeMax coming to me sometime next week which means I can get rid of this boring ass landscaping job. It has kept me pretty tan (read: too tan) and in pretty good physical shape (read: not that great but better than usual physical shape), but the actual work is just boring. I do enjoy getting paid 9 bucks an hour to drive around town all day as a matter of principle, but in reality, it's a lonely, solitary life, and apparently I've become less of a loner since high school. So OfficeMax would be cool. I could be the electronics specialist guy and then I'd be the envy of giant nerds everywhere.

Alright. So everyone's probably heard this already (though very few people who read this have probably heard this) but this was the big news last week. Here I was, naked in front of my computer at about 10 on Tuesday night. I was naked because it's hot in the middle of summer, and we don't use air conditioning. I was on the computer doing my rounds (reading comics, checking email, etc) before bed. Suddenly, after like 5 minutes of this, I look over at my window and realize the blinds are open, meaning any soul unlucky enough to walk by can see me. So I go something like "Oh shit" and I go close my window. No harm no foul, though I do remember thinking "man, I hope nobody saw me." So I go to bed at about 10:15, which I remember noticing because that's a little earlier than I usually go to bed, and I was looking forward to a long, wonderful night of sleep.
Come 11, a faint knock is heard on the door. Apparently this knock had been occurring for a while, because Cam told me, and because the police officer knocking looked a little upset when I peeked out, and he said "Open the door." I threw on some shorts and went out into the apartment to open the door. Cam walked out of his room at the same time, and together we faced the officer. He looks at us funny and goes "Do you guys live here together?" What we should have said was something like "Yes, and you're interrupting our nightly anal sex session," but what we said was just kind of a surprised "Yeah." So he goes "Who was on the computer earlier?" What we should have said was something like "I don't know, every single person in this country?" or "We're going to need a time frame on that one, buddy." But instead we just sputtered out a couple things like "Both of us" and "We connect through the same router" (which was an especially stupid thing to say and which I claim full responsiblity for). So he goes "Who was on the computer 15 minutes ago?" Nobody was on the computer 15 minutes previously, because we'd both been in bed for at least 45 minutes. But since Cam's girlfriend was over and they went in their room before me, probably not to use the computer, I volunteered that I was probably the most recent computer user.
The officer tells Cam to go to bed, and while Cam says he wanted to just hang out and see what's going on with this guy who never introduced himself, never identified himself as a policeman (other than his costume), and just walked right on into our apartment without being invited, he was scared like me so he went back to bed. The officer looks at me at says "You know what this is about, don't you." Since I had previously thought to myself "Man, I hope nobody saw me naked at the computer" earlier, I said yeah, though I was confused as to why the police were here. To the best of my knowledge, it's not illegal to use a computer while naked in the state of Colorado, but who knows, with conservative Christians (I mean, Republicans, like there's a difference) in control of this country. So he talks to me for a little while about how it shouldn't happen again, and I assure him that I'll keep my blinds closed forevermore, and he fucking calls my ID into the dispatcher like I'm some kind of criminal. What I really enjoyed about this guy was how he was treating me like I was standing in front of my window masturbating, slaughtering a chicken over a picture of Christ on the cross, and molesting young children. He seriously talked to me like I'm some kind of sex offender, when in reality if you know me, you've probably never even seen me without my shirt on, unless you've lived with me for a month or two, in which case I might have accidentally stumbled out topless one time.
With the police officer gone without an apology for waking us up at 11, keeping me up until 11:30 on a work night, I went back to bed, but could not fall asleep because of my intense anger and fear. Mostly anger at this point. Anger that someone would look in my room, which was completely dark, except for the light of the monitor, study the vague blog long enough to realize it was a naked guy, and get so offended that she would call the police. I say "she" because we've discussed this, and there is no guy in existence who would call the police upon seing someone naked, male or female. If female, he'd probably call his friends. If male, he'd go "Oops" and keep on walking. We've also decided this woman is a conservative, she's Christian, she's in her 50's, and she's a gigantic walking cunt, which you'd think you'd be able to see from a pretty good distance, but I've yet to find out who she is. If I do find out who she is, Cam and I are going to do something to her, though we haven't figured out what yet.
These are the morals from this ordeal:
1. I hate the police with a passion, and each time I have to interact with one, I hate them more. I think traffic cops are basically the scum of the earth, and if they all caught a horrible disease where their eyes rot out of their skulls and their brains leak out through their eye sockets in a hideously painful manner, the world would be a better place. Traffic cops, however, are angels in comparison to cops who show up at a dark, quiet apartment at night and wake them up for no reason. I can't even bring myself to write what should happen to those cops.
2. If I'm a sex offender in the police system now, I am single handedly going to tear this government down, or die trying. I'm not big on anarchy, but I'm also not big on a repressive dictatorship in which I can't even be naked in my own apartment, in my own bedroom, in the middle of the night.
3. I have, once again, lost all faith in the segment of "humanity" that calls the police on something like this. I don't mean all Christians, or, necessarily, all conservatives when I say this. I just mean the ones who want to make everyone else a conservative Christian. God damn, I hate republicans.
4. I just think I should repeat this: Cops are fucking scum. One time John's car died after a Lagwagon concert, and the police wouldn't give us a jump. They said they'd call us a tow truck. Fucking prick asshole dicks.

Moving on, I saw the Lawrence Arms last week by myself in Denver, and after freaking out about parking and scrounging through the loose change in my car to find a total of exactly three bucks, I got into Rock Island, which is a bizarre little goth club that is sometimes used for punk shows. I kept the tradition alive of getting a drinking wristand and not getting anything to drink. Cam and I do this because of all the times we couldn't get into shows or had to pay extra because we weren't 21. Take that, The Man. Anyway, Enemy You opened, and I've been a fan of theirs since I heard their awesome song on the Short Music comp, which they played, to my delight. They played a solid set of pop punk that I enjoyed way more than anyone else there. Next was Smoke or Fire, who played a really really good show. Their CD is pretty good, but their live show is very very energetic and tight, and I'd recommend seeing them. This was the second time I saw them, the first being opening for Against Me! in Houston. They were better this time. Third was the way awesome A Wilhelm Scream. They played all three songs I knew by them, and a lot more, and they're a riot to watch. Five guys jumping around, playing really loud, hard punk rock. Way good. If I hadn't been poor I would have bought a CD of theirs. They had a big fan base and lots of people were singing along and such. Then the Lawrence Arms came out and played the best show I have ever seen then play (seen them 3 times now). They played a wonderful setlist that included my two favorite b-sides, a couple more songs than usual off their first album, all of my favorite songs off Ghost Stories (including Minute, which is awesome, and, to my extreme surprise and happiness, Me and Martha Plimpton in an Elevator. I screamed like a little girl when I realized they were playing that. Then the usual excellent smattering of stuff from their newest two albums and the splits. My only fault was that they didn't play Quincentuple Your Money, the song that got me into them. Bren was entertaining as always, played a bass-only version of Every Rose Has its Thorn when Chris' guitar broke, and generally it was awesome. Best show I've seen in a long time.

I have on my list of things to write about Sarai. I don't know what I was going to write about her, except her name is spelled strangely for it being pronounced Sarah. I've been talking to her for hours and hours every day recently, and I really enjoy it. There are two problems right now, in my eyes. One, she's home in Maryland until August. Two, she has a boyfriend, though all signs point to that relationship not lasting. Ugh. She's way awesome though, and we're hanging out when she gets back, I think. Unless she solves her problems with her boyfriend and they start living together again. Which would be terribly disappointing for me, but then, terribly disappointing is a good adjective clause to describe how my relationships with women usually go, so it wouldn't be too suprising.

No Use for a Name is all I'm listening to lately, but not the new album, but Leche con Carne and Making Friends. They used to be a hell of a band. The new album is good but those albums are better. I finally like Leche con Carne, I always thought it kind of sucked. Now I like about every song on there. Also, I got the Lawrence Arms b-sides album for 5 bucks after trading in the splits and a couple other pieces of trash I had laying around, and I'm wearing it out, even though there are only like 4 songs I hadn't heard before.

Hokey dokey folks, Brian's been at home all week so I haven't been able to play pinochle. And he hasn't been able to put up a song. But I assume he's still planning on doing that. Real quick, comments for certain articles go at the top, as exemplified by Karo, the smartest girl I know, and at the end of each article is the author's name. Not that I don't like hearing my song is real good, but I haven't written any songs. Alright, check ya later.