Maybe You Are Pointless.

The tweaker on the train was a bit much even for me. My best attempts to ignore, avoid and nullify were dashed when he finally started to poke at my book. I had to remove one of my new velodyne earbuds to cast a sufficiently withering stare at the fucknut. The new earbuds are possibly the closest I will ever come to a religious experience incidentally, but they can only do so much. They aren't shields.

The tweak show continued all the way down Figueroa with a big assed black chick with a totally messed up weave who wasn't tweaking so much as suffering from early onset head trauma. Meaning she was dropped on her head and beaten regularly as a child. One would naturally suspect.

Then I finally get to my joy of all joys, the office, only to discover that one of the farm animals has all gone up and moved her office next to mine. The cow. She had been told not to once already, but she knows better, and I guess I need practice on making people feeling monumentally uncomfortable without actually saying anything.

I fucking hate it here, but I like where Foyle's War is going this season.