Litereally.

Nothing interesting to report to the 1.5 people who may find this blog when Googling "crazed  Trekkies with too many cute but super cheap shoes", or "shower-peeing females".  The last one might actually direct you to a different sort of pages.

I was in a crappy mood yesterday, brought on by watching other people. Literally.

Heh. I mistyped that as "Litereally".  I like that.

 

Can I get someone to come over and clean up? My room looks like the Titanic hit it.

 

So litereally, Halloween's over and I'm looking through my Halloween timeline. Not once in the last 3 Halloweens did I wear the Star Trek uniform. That's odd. But I did wear it earlier this year for something.  Can't remember what.

 

Where is that stupid uniform, anyway?  Probably somewhere under this fiasco of a mess.

 

The Halloween roller skating fundraiser went well. I worked the ticket booth, so I didn't get to skate.

Not much out this week.  Enders Game or The Wolverine (again)? I don't like Harrison Ford, but it's hard to take Hugh Jackman seriously after he sang to Maximus Decimus Meridias.  I should take my neighbor out to thank her for my new shoes. I wouldn't mind seeing Captain Hanks again.

 

Danged 1 o'clock bell! Does every US city ring that zombie apocalypse alarm at 1pm every Saturday? Like that creepy Silent Hill alarm, like you just know something bad is coming. I'm waiting for the paint to peel from the walls.

 

 

 

I should play the Silent Hill alarm when creepy guy is on our floor instead of Bach.

 

I heard gunshots really late last night. Well, most nights, but this was a different gun.  This was more like a "BOOM BOOM" instead of the usual "bip bip".  I was too tired to get up and check it out.

 

Now that I live alone, and so close to Detroit, I'm hyperaware of my personal security issues.  I had security doors installed (last neighbor on the block). I'm considering a CWP.  Our Director of Security (who's as Tea Party'd as they come) is taking me to a gun range next week to teach me how to shoot. 

 

I asked him what sort of gun I would need.  (That kinda of stings internally to ask, or even type as I did just now).  He's all "shoot first, then shoot again later. Forget asking questions". I could see his confusion as he sat across from me in my office yesterday when I tried to explain my position.

 

I don't want to kill anyone. I just want to scare them away. 

 

His advice is logical, I think. From this end, at least.  I should buy a shotgun and keep it in my bedroom.

 

I asked, "You mean one of those big hunting guns? Why?"  He answered that the size alone would probably scare someone away. If I had to use it, even as powerful as it is (a nice way of saying, "...even as clumsy as you are..."), I wouldn't miss my target...er...the human.

 

I asked about keeping the bullets or the gun locked up somewhere. A coworker said he does that.  The response was that I don't have little kids around, so there's no need to lock it away.  If someone's in my room already, then the weapon needs to be ready.

 

Yeesh. 
 

This is all a bit humbling, considering I've always been anti-gun. My exbf had a gun. He would wave it around jokingly, or when he was angry or drunk.  But I hated guns before that.  But the platform shoe's on the other foot now, and my perspective is slowly creaking around.
 

My friend and foe Christopholes is anti-gun.  His solution is to move. Pffh. Wuss. 

  

I have an appointment for a tattoo today. 

 

And I have to mail off some bills.