So the Washington Post isn't running the Boondocks this week because they found the theme of insulting Condi Rice offensive, but you can head over to ucomics and check it out. For those too lazy, here's today's strip:

So I met this person tonight with really great eyes. Words fail me. This person made the whole evening worthwhile (though the Red Sox game helped!) and now I'm thinking of altering my plans tomorrow accordingly. Am I really that guy?

In addition, I had a great idea about an hour beforehand. A really, knock-you-down great idea. I just have to do some coding before I can deploy it. So, yeah, the idea is related to the web. So what. It's still cool. It's the devil reflected.

I'm kind of distracted at the moment though. A curse on hopeless romantics. May they forever be disappointed in humanity. Focus. Focus.

So I invite several people to a party. Some people occasionally ask to be removed from the list. That's fine. Most have good excuses, like they're moving to China. Many people, however, remain on the list because I only e-mail them occasionally and it's very small. Plus, you never know when someone could make a cameo.

But now this chick wants off and I'm ticked. Mainly because she never came to any parties, despite my pulling her bacon out of the fire. At an event a couple years ago she left her cell phone. I called the last number dialed and asked the person whose phone I was calling from. After tracking down who the owner was, I got in touch with her and said she could pick up her phone at a party which was happening in the next three days from that time. She says sure.

Thirty minutes later she calls and she's outside the house, wanting her phone back. I give her the phone and she thanks me. I point out that she's still invited to the party and she assures me she'll come. So at the party: no show. Classic.

Over the years she drops the ball a couple more times. And it's not like she's super charismatic or mega-hot or anything. She just seems to be rude. And now she wants off the list, the list that has troubled her mighty inbox three times in the past year. Sheesh.

Some people need to stop sweating the little stuff and just roll with it. I'll take her off the list. Good riddance.

Yes, Helena and Brad, it's a fast food story. Eat it up.

First off, it rains. Although three days of blue skies buoyed my spirits significantly (including a picture perfect day on Sunday to go for a 55+ mile ride) it is somewhat annoying to come back to work on a dreary day. Plus, my left foot was hurting badly enough that I could barely walk. Significany mileage out canvassing for Dean on Saturday, cycling on Sunday and more walking on Monday left me hobbling around Monday night and unable to move this morning.

But move I did. To work. At work, I got the conservative intern I occasionally spar with to buy me lunch, since I'd bought him lunch (along with two other people) last week. All I ask is that he goes to Subway and gets a foot long chicken breast with red sauce. Every single time I go to the local Subway I get the same thing. They know what I want as soon as I roll in there. So the kid comes back with my sandwich. I bite into it eagerly.

The sandwich is covered in pepper salsa. Not red sauce. Not Franks's red hot sauce. Pepper Salsa. Spicy but unsatisfying. I was annoyed but I could barely walk, so I had to eat half of it before giving up. Waste of a meal.

The day drags on and I leave a bit early to catch the Red Sox game. Splurging despite my day-to-day tenuous financial situation, I decide to order a pizza from Papa John's, because they've got this new "Hawaiian Barbeque Chicken Pizza" deal. It looked tasty in the commercials. So I order one before I leave work and jump onto the metro. Which isn't moving.

Twenty minutes later I emerge near my house. The pizza guys is about to leave. I catch him (what luck!) and explain the problem with the metro. How come everytime I order a pizza at 7:00pm it takes an hour to arrive, but the one time I order it and take the metro it only takes 20 minutes? No matter. I sit down and continue watching the Sox/Yankees game. I bite into a pizza. Ugh.

It turns out the "Hawaiian Barbeque Chicken Pizza" has tons of onions on it. Now this surprises me enough to check the Papa John's website to see if this was a mistake, but no: the pizza I ordered contains onions, pineapple, chicken and barbeque sauce. I'm baffled. Everyone knows a Hawaiian pizza contains ham and pineapple. You know, like they have on Hawaii, plenty of pigs and pineapples. So naturally, I thought they'd merely add barbeque chicken to the mix. I'm not sure where the damn onions came from, but the combination was atrocious. I thought about ordering another pizza but with my luck, it'd take an hour to arrive and I was hungry then, so I ate it anyway. While watching the Sox lose.

It turns out the Cubs lost, too, but I didn't watch that game. And the idiots at Equifax have screwed me again with a credit error. It's been almost two months since this madness started. I just want them to know who I am and where I live. So far that seems too much to ask.

In all, a horrible, rotten, no-good day. So I spent a couple hours after the game cleaning the house. At least something looks better now than it did. Plus, I scored $20 from Amex, for nothing. Free money rocks. But it doesn't make up for a lack of blue skies, or a good day.

In the beginning, there was Mosaic. And the people were not content. Then came mighty Mozilla and the book spoke thusly:

And the beast shall come forth surrounded by a roiling cloud of vengeance. The house of the unbelievers shall be razed and they shall be scorched to the earth. Their tags shall blink until the end of days.
from The Book of Mozilla, 12:10

Then more changes were made and another prophecy arose:

And the beast shall be made legion. Its numbers shall be increased a thousand thousand fold. The din of a million keyboards like unto a great storm shall cover the earth, and the followers of Mammon shall tremble.
from The Book of Mozilla, 3:31
(Red Letter Edition)

Now, as I discovered the other day via the about:mozilla command, we have a new prophecy:

And so at last the beast fell and the unbelievers rejoiced. But all was not lost, for from the ash rose a great bird. The bird gazed down upon the unbelievers and cast fire and thunder upon them. For the beast had been reborn with its strength renewed, and the followers of Mammon cowered in horror.
from The Book of Mozilla, 7:15
(Red Letter Edition)

For the full story, read this. I don't follow all the back-channel stuff for Mozilla, but I am using version 0.7 now, and it rocks. I'm glad there's a new prophecy to go along with it.

'werkz advice: go see it in the theater.

Tarantino's new work: "Kill Bill: Volume 1" is a bloody masterpiece. Like Rodriguez in Once Upon a Time in Mexico, Tarantino takes a big budget and goes all out with it, snagging some cool special effects in the process, while paying tribute to a genre he love, namely, the low-budget Asian martial art film from the 70s. Like Rodriguez, Quentin manages to incorporate most of his old style into the new, producing an over-the-top affair that doesn't take itself too seriously at any point. Unlike Rodriguez, there aren't any "slow" moments to the film, which is good.

I'm not an Uma Thurman fan: I think she's gawky and unattractive. But even she comes off well in this flick, and the bad guys come off as amazing cool, even in the shape of pure evil. If you can handle multiple decapitations and arms lost, Kill Bill Volume One will satisfy. Now I can't wait to see the sequel.

My foot is killing me.

I had a great three-day weekend.

The Sox triumphed tonight, as I knew they would. Go Sox! It was a low-scoring affair, but the game was fun to watch.

I bought the "Kill Bill" soundtrack. It's only fairly good. The RZA contributed very little. Tracks 5 and 9 and 10 are nice. The move slices heads, nicely.

I'm too tired to write more. Perhaps tomorrow.