My apartment is hotter than the sun’s thermos over here. The sun has hot coffee in his thermos, but my apartment is warmer than that coffee. For the sun to enjoy a hot coffee, you know it would have to be really hot. But my apartment is moreso.

I guess this weekend the city is being Hurricaned. At least that should clear out all this humidity.

I’d do something, or write something or something, but it’s too hot. I don’t want to.

So hot.

This guy is Paco McZap. He’s a lazy wizard from the Wrong Alternate Universe.

Previously on the Book of PDR:

Back in early 2009 the computer I owned was very virused-up and went and died. A tragedy to be sure, but the part that stings the most is that I had been writing a book and had none of it backed up outside of that computer. While most of the book was meant to be a collection of short stories from back in the Contains2 days it was framed by a sequence starring none other than the gentleman above.

Paco McZap was a young man who was discovered to have great potential as for magic, but as it turned out he was stupid and had a very “when am I ever going to need that” attitude towards his studies so he just became a lazy wretch who used magic to summon pizza delivery men to his tower quicker. I was quite pleased with how my attempt to tell his life story had been going so I am reluctant to try again because I don’t think I’d do it as well, but I’ve not forgotten him altogether. To prove this, I have drawn a picture of him. There you go.

I’m not able to sleep, but I know I should be. I was writing a Friday the Thirteenth-related story, but then I got distracted. I’ll not have time to finish it on this day so instead, I’ll write a post here. Even if I get that story done late, it’s still done, right? Anyway, I’ve been saving up things to say, so I might as well use them.

Back when I used to take cabs home from work like twice a week Casino Taxi (they’re the fast ones) used to treat me pretty well. The dispatcher lady knew me by name and would ensure that cabs came to pick me up tout de suite and they all knew where I was going. Now that I only need a cab only once a month or so, the new dispatcher never remembers me or makes smalltalk and I feel less special. Sure, they’re probably more concerned with people who use cabs more regularly, but c’mon. Where’s the love? I’ll always be loyal to Casino Taxi thanks to their old commercial, but I miss the love.

Why is it that the further a store is from my apartment, the better the ice cream it sells? I had this thing called Caramel Hat Trick the other day. It was sweet. I guess this is just a rhetorical musing. That is all.

I put together a futon over the weekend. It wasn’t hard or anything, but I still used the instructions as a guide. Doing so, I noticed that the French language bit of the manual got a step that the English and Spanish ones did not. It detailed these little rubber things I had to stick on to prevent the mattress from sliding or something.

I don’t know if this means the manual writers were so pro-French they wanted to leave the others out on the full details of what to do, or if they figured that English and Spanish speakers were smart enough to figure it out from the diagram (Like I did!) but the French were not as quick on the uptake. It is important to find out if we’re going to know who should be angry here.

And clearly someone needs to be angry.

Hey, I forgot to mention. Last week I was opening the door to a cab and I hit myself in the face with it. It ranks up there with my best stupidest moments. Although it did not leave the amount of bruise I expected when it happened, it left a mark on my head for days. And it is still tender to the touch. I am impressed with my door-swinging strength.

Haiku!

War on Planet Grup.
Two powerful armies fight.
The biggest one wins.

In other news, I am now roommateless with Marq having moved to the other side of the city. Here’s hoping that that somehow translates into me writing more.

Hey, you know what is awesome? When I was getting on the elevator to go see Kip earlier today and just I was getting on a little boy (about four years of age, I would guess) and his father were stepping off. The little boy looked up at me then asked his father “Why is he really tall?” It was awesome. His father apparently had no reply.

You’ll note that I mentioned Kip just then. I would like to clarify right now that I am mentioning him in a poor light. That’s right, Kip. I am disparaging you. Suck it.

So, remember a few months back when I thought that I’d lost all the cable networks that I don’t pay for? Well, it appears that I was too quick to assume that someone had noticed I was getting an odd assortment of things I’m not meant to. It turns out that the cable was just unplugged and I’ve still got them all. So I am back in the business of being able to flip through the channels as a form of relaxation.

Shame about how there really isn’t anything good on them.