Lets see... I took paul and sophie to ontario airport so they could get on a plane to go to sunny florida. Then I came back, looked up some more thrift stores, and wandered to LA to go thrift store shoping. Found three shirts that were usefull, but not the overcoat that I was realling looking for. Seems like I'm going to have to look for and pick up a sewing machine to make the clothes that I want to wear. Oh well.

One of the shirts is an antique christian dior, with a semi-decent conservative design. One is a crappy (but cheap) long sleeve velvet-like thingie, and the other was a cheap (and nice) Ecko shirt. Kind of sad that the selection of mens clothing in thrift stores is so minimalistic. Solution: Men need to begin to exert some pressure on the fashion industry to make better design decisions for males. {Yes, gay men, this means you! As well as the couple of us hetero males who like quality, innovative clothing.}

After that, I wandered around trying to find a locale to void my bladder. I made the mistake of pulling into a K-Mart that was clearly exceeding its parking lot's capabilities. Realizing my innocent mistake, I fled the scene of the crime, but not before ome idiot in a large SUV actually had the audacity to honk at me for not making a right hand turn in the front of oncomming traffic. (He was stuck behind me, and had to wait an extra 10 seconds while I let a car go that would have slammed into the back of me had I gone.) I eventually went, but I should have let the inner dick in me out. My parking brake should have suddenly lept from it's off position to the fully on, the car should have turned off, and the hazards come on. For effect, I should have popped the hood, and proceeded to the front, swearing loudly, and waited for the car behind me to back up against traffic and try to exit using another route. Then, in a coupe de gras, closed the hood, jumped inside, and speed off. But I kept the dick in me under control, and merely decided that the car behind me clearly needed to have a better interface placed between the seat and the steering wheel, as its current design is liable to cause the car undue stress and damage.

I did eventually void my bladder, and managed to travel to my parents home without engaging my postal tendencies against any other drivers. (I try to be a peacfull person, and in my peacefullness, sometimes it is necessary to dispatch people from society so that their logical end does not involve any innocent (or at least not heinously guilty) bystanders (or by-drivers).)

More watching of boring movies, and finally I'm going to sleep.