The Franchise Tax Board of California seems to think that the time I lived in North Carolina was time they missed out on stealing my money. This is probably due to the fact that I worked for a company that was based in California, and started my six wasted years with them working in California, after which I moved to Raleigh, North Carolina. Thus, they think I owe them 4000 bucks. Listen, dudes; I'll give you a call tomorrow morning, when I wake up, and explain how, exactly, you're FUCKING WRONG, but I do believe I'll be calling a lawyer directly after that, as it's painfully obvious that you FUCKED THIS UP, and if you fucked it up this bad in the first place, it should be a fucking nightmare to get it untangled. Fucking retards.

This week, I've had a car, so I've been commuting the ten miles to work via I-280. Ten miles. Guess how long that takes, every goddamned day. I dare you.

If you guessed lower than 45 minutes, you guessed low. The average thus far (3 days) is 56 minutes. The bus takes 53, and it stays on side streets. Want to take a guess at the number of accidents I saw? Yeah, zero. Police pull-overs? Again. zero. The problem, as best I can tell, is retards. People who enter the interstate at a sub-par speed, if not outright using their fucking brakes, then meandering across multiple lanes of traffic so they can get in "the fast lane", because, after all, they are important people on a very tight schedule, a fact reflected in the shiny chrome of their whatever. Once they have arrived in this lane, they drive the same brake-happy shit-brained way they drove in all the other lanes, then promptly bring that entire "fast lane" to a halt when they come to a complete stop waiting for someone to let them back into the next lane over, since they Totally and Absolutely Need To Cross Five Lanes Of Fucking Traffic Right Fucking Now To Make That Lawrence Expressway Exit. This complete stop effect ripples across all five lines. Now, multiply that jackass times 1000.

People at work who drive all the time have no sympathy. I don't give a fuck, this shit is completely unacceptable. I have a solution, but I think we should probably all work together to find another one, because, believe me, motherfuckers, you're not going to like my solution. Hell, you're not going to be around to have an opinion on my solution. So, shall I start downsizing you all, Cullifornians, or can we all self-police here? If you can't drive, stay the fuck off the road. If you put on sunglasses, do not put on a fucking welding helmet and big-ass floppy hat. If you're that fucking scared of the sun, stay home. If you aren't going to pay attention to what the fuck is going on around you at all times, you shouldn't have a fucking drivers license. And if you cut in front of me again, I will feed you your fucking heart. We clear, Californians? Good.

You can test me if you want. I'll be back in two weeks, ready to solve problems.

You know, it's funny; even in the most dense traffic of the daily commute, I've not seen this level of shit-headedness amongst drivers in Chicago, Detroit, New York, Boston, or even DC. Stunning, really. It'd be impressive if it didn't make me want to stab a knife in the neck of every driver I pass.

So, fuck it.

Strangely, coworkers are continuing to try and thwart my decision.

I am now a paying sucker to the cult of chiropractice. It reduces the pain, and I think I may get a quality general practicioner reference out of the deal, if you know what I mean.

Tonight, I think I'll watch Children of Men, but at the first hint of optimism or positivity, I'll turn that motherfucker off and watch Blue Velvet again. Don't test me, Apple TV.

Not sure how that happened, but the elbow is looking pretty sweet on my left arm. Might have something to do with holding a big-assed 18v power screwdriver over my head most of the day. What kind of asshole asks for shit to be racked from U47 to U28, anyway? Fuck you, motherfucker. Next time, you do this shit yourself.

Oh, there was also a sweet moment when, while sitting in the break room outside the NOC, I listened to some chump from internal services claim to have racked half the shit I've spent the last year racking. Uh, dude, the dude who actually did the work is in the room listening to your bullshit right now. Whatevs. Count your five figures and weep, lil' lady.

My reputation as Crazy White Dude at work precedes me. Those who work with me, love me. Those who do not, fear me. Heh. And all without the benefit of the fucking beard! Man, am I awesome.

I've been buying a ton of shit lately, so I've not got time to do full, proper reviews on any of it, but here's a quick rundown:

• "In Case We Die", Architecture in Helsinki. I thought I'd like this, but, as it turns out, I don't. Maybe I will later. Probably not. Too soft and noodly.
• "None Shall Pass", Aesop Rock. Damn, dude. Damn. New Aesop Rock albums are like new William T. Vollman novels; they take forever to absorb, fully, but they're delicious every step of the way.
• "Eardrum", Talib Kweli. Eat it, Common.
• "Lake Michigan", Rogue Wave. More Rogue Wave. Which I like.
• "Everything Ecstatic", Four Tet. Very intricate, but less gripping than...
• "Rounds", Four Tet. Fucking Kick Ass. I should probably stop listening to this when I am driving. It's not helping things.
• "A Lazarus Taxon", Tortoise. It's somehow fitting that the retrospective boxed set is longwinded and heavy-handed in it's non-heavy-handedness.
• "Trans Am", Trans Am. This is the best classic rock album of all time, at least for dudes who like their classic rock without the lead guitar and vocals. Like me.
• "Liberation", Trans Am. I thought this record was pretty cool, back when Caberet Voltaire and Test Department made it the first and second time, in the mid-80s. Still, parts of it rock the fuck out.
• "Lady Melody", Audio Karate. Fucking infectious songs about how people suck, what's not to like?
• "Six Pence for the Sauces EP", Drake Tungsten. I went and got messed up on drugs again, the fact that you need it's enough. Heh. Earnest and insincere simultaneously. Reminds me that I friggin' love Spoon.
• "Key", Son, Ambulance. I haven't really given this a fair shake yet.
• "Euphemystic", Son, Ambulance. Same deal here. Wanna know why? Because...
• Tokyo Police Club rocks entirely too fucking much. Kisses to you, Toronto.
• Same thing with Parts & Labor's "Mapmaker".

Alright, I should probably go play GRAW2 or something, before.

Oh yeah, merry christmas. Don't say I never gave you anything. Or do. Doesn't bother me one way or the other.

The live video from the East River performance thing is pretty sweet; the entire audience is like 4 or 5 4 or 5 year olds. Kids know what's good, and kids like noise rock, yo.