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| 8:01 p.m.-2004-03-18 This is for cabin-boy. Yesterday was the Day From Hell. You don't believe me? You just listen to this, kiddies. Then you tell me YOU have had a day like this. I was sleeping soundly. Real soundly. Blessedly soundly. Like I haven't slept in weeks. Then I hear this noise. I wake up a little. I listen. It's not Bertha, asking to be taken for an extra early walk. Therefore, I roll over, and go back to sleep. Then I hear it again. BAM bam BAM. Like Emeril was making goose liver covered French toast dusted with bee pollen or something. Bam BAM bam. �Seattle Police Department. Open the door!� Needless to say, I got to the door. Thank god I'd put clothes on the night before. I sleep in the buff, most nights. That door gets YANKED open, damn near tore it off the hinges, and the cop is standing there, with his hand in the air. He was shocked. I was shocked. He was cute. He was real cute, except for that balding head of his. He was probably half a decade younger than me, and all strapping in that uniform of his. He damn near hit me in the face, about to �knock� again. He stares at me a minute, and then demands, �Is Suzy here.� Mind you, Suzy is not her name. I'm changing her name to protect her identity. �Is Suzy Creamcheese here?� I stare at him stupidly a minute. Mind you, I've been awake all of about fourty five seconds. Then I point, wordlessly. To the apartment next door. �She lives next door to me.� �This apartment #23, isn�t it?� �No,� replies I�and point next door again. �Oh,� says he, and looks at the large apartment number glued at eye level to him, on my door. �This is apartment #21.� �Right,� I say. �Sorry. Wrong apartment. Didn�t mean to wake you up.� And then he just�walks off�to start the routine over, on the door to Apartment #23. Mind you, I wasn�t surprised. Suzy next door is a bit of a whacko. She�s got all sorts of strange stories about the people who live next to her. And she�ll even tell you. She told the cabin-boy the other day, that see, she cut a hole in her blinds, just like the people next to her, because she knew they were secretly video taping everything she did. Mind you, our windows are in the same wall..we can�t see into her apartment anymore than we can fly. Moreover, I don�t think she knew she was telling the people she was accusing of taping her, either. But I digress. I shut the door to the apartment, shake my head, go and let Bertha out of her kennel (where she was blissfully sleeping) and go in to see if the commotion going on next door had woken up the other half. Cabin-boy rolls over, as I come in the room, looks at me with one eye, and asks, �Something up?� �Yeah. Cops were knocking on the wrong door at five-ungodly in the morning.� �Oh,� says the cabin-boy, and rolls back over, and promptly goes back to sleeping. Like a log. Like a great big SNORING log. But I was now awake�so I went to play on the computer in the living room. A bit later, with the commotion still going on next door, I hear someone knocking on MY door again. Cops want to get a statement about me about Suzy, I guess. Or to apologize. Or something. I open the door. No cop. No nothing. I figure I didn�t hear right, and shut the door. Ten seconds later, all hell broke loose. Because you see, what had been knocking at the door that time, was Suzy�s KITTEN. The poor kitty, about the same age as our girls, must�ve FLOWN into our apartment, seeking refuge from the hell that was her home. I felt sort of bad, really, but the girls were gonna MURDER the intruder�.Bertha, to her credit, was like �Oh look! A NEW kitty! Does she like me better than my kitties do?� Poor grey kitty didn�t know what hit her. Leota wanted her spleen. Diva wanted her butt. I managed to rescue her, and without thinking, popped the door back open as the cops were in a wrestling match with Suzy. The cute cop who woke me up was there. He spun around, to see who was watching them. I shrugged, and handed him the cat, �This is Suzy�s kitten. Put her back in the apartment when you�re done? Thanks.� I shut the door in his face. In retrospect, I feel bad. I should�ve just KEPT her kitty. She�s a sweet little grey tuxedo kitty. Sort of looks like a grey Leota. Heh. And that�s just how my day started. Yeah. There�s more. Lots more. Don�t go away! Right. I'm back. As if my morning wasn�t enough, lunch wasn�t any better. Picture the captain, leaving the galley and going to the head. In the head, the captain sits down for a few moments of contemplation. Laying on the floor of the stall, is a magazine. Without thinking, the captain�s curosity gets the better of him, and he picks it up. Immediately, he wishes he had NOT. It�s a rather sticky porno magazine. Crackwhore Weekly or something. Normally, such a thing would�ve been jettisoned into the garbage immediately. Except this stall does not HAVE a garbage. Feeling dirty already, he throws the magazine back on the floor, and begins to finish his business. That�s when someone let a bus off in the men�s room. First one. Then two. Then four�immediately, all the stalls were filled, and there was a line forming, for the one the captain was occupying. I feared for my life. I mean�anyone else coming into the stall would /see/ that magazine, and know I left it behind, right. AUGH. I was afraid to leave the stall, despite the angry mob forming. I wound up staying in there, making �gross� noises with my lips�until the ohers finally gave up, or got into another stall. I must�ve been in there fifteen minutes, and then I waited until I was sure no one was waiting outside the men�s room, too. Just in case. Yeah. Then I ran like the chickenshit I was. Leaving the magazine for housekeeping. Don�t you wish you had days like mine? The Captain.
 The Internet's Mood: The Captain Recommends Dogcessorize 2006-08-13 - Movie Review: Monster House 2006-08-07 - Movie Review: The Descent 2006-06-09 - Movie Review: The Omen 2006-06-03 - She's here, She's here! 2006-05-22 - Blame the Cabin-Boy for playing 50 questions.
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