So, my 80 GB video Ipod was stolen last week. Thank you, I know it sucks. Yes. Well, it's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault, Will. It's not your fault.
I don't really have much else to say about that particular event. Some kid snatched it from me while I was walking in Fort Greene. I chased him for a while, called 911 (three cops showed up--I guess the murder rate in NYC really is down), and almost trapped the guy in a subway station. All in all, it was a high voltage thrill ride reminiscent of the final scene from THE FUGITIVE. Except that I didn't get my Ipod back, so I guess the one-armed guy won. Boo urns. For a more thorough account of this misadventure (complete with the mandatory recriminations that follow the reporting of a robbery on neighborhood message boards around here), look here.
Oh, and my flight to Chicago (I'm going to the Pitchfork Music Festival this weekend) got cancelled today. And I wanted to come home and permit myself the simple pleasure of doing the New York Times crossword puzzle (I've mastered Tuesday--can I beat Wednesday???). Lo and behold, everywhere in my neighborhood is either out of the paper or too fucktarded to carry it. Well, don't that just beat the band?
I'm sick of this heat. Hmm, anything else to complain about? Oh yeah, Iraq's still fucked up. Could somebody fix that?