My car was a manners-teaching car. The driver's side door could not be unlocked from the outside, so whoever I let in had to unlock it. The passenger's side door locks if you so much as shut it or look at it funny, so whoever I let in I have to open the door for. The former is no more, as Tommy went ahead and fixed the driver's side door. Expect my manners to worsen in a major way over time now that the car is no longer enforcing proper etiquette. So much for compassion helping me into avatarhood. At least I still have a leaking radiator pouring a river of coolant every morning to teach me humility.
It's 8:30, and I really should leave Drew. I actually have a reason to go home tonight, as Ozzy's new 'reality sitcom' starts tonight. I'm still miffed that the /. troll Ozzy never replied to my AC questions about the show.
I wonder what it would be like to date one of Ozzy's daughters. I know the older one's not being shown on the show at her request, I think she'd be the better candidate. Somehow I couldn't imagine having a serious conversation about curfew or the like with dove-eater ant-snorter wildman himself.
At least he didn't name his daughters Moon Unit or Harley Quinn like some celebrities.
I think Davies House has reclaimed my mortal shell.