It just felt wrong today. I mean, I didn't really think that people were going out of their way to set me off today, but it sure seemed like it. The universe just seemed off-kilter for a whole bunch of people, not just me. And then I realized why (with a little help from Eve) -- it's Friday the 13th. You'd think that, given the fact that most people look forward to Friday and dread Monday, Monday the 13th would be more of a superstitious day, though, right? Okay, I'm home now, I'm boarding up the windows and locking all the doors and staying in so nothing else bad will happen. But of course, it'll be just my luck that the DirecTV'll go out, the DSL will go down and the Annoying Fuckwad Neighbors will be up until 3am making the walls shake with their bassoriffic tune-age to completely screw with my night. Maybe the bathroom will explode again. In other news, the L.A. Times ran an article today on a record store in Silver Lake that hosts karaoke nights regularly, except it's all rap and hip-hip, and mostly -- as the article says, what us white kids perceive of as -- old-school tunes. Kick ass. You know I'm gonna have to go up there and bust a move at some point in the near future and get funky with the other white boys. I'll drop my mad skillz, yo. I can hear the chants now: Go, white boy... go, white boy... it's yer birfday... go, white boy... It won't matter though, since I won't be able to hear them. I expect to be fully deaf after tomorrow. Even though KROQ gave me sucky tickets to this year's Weenie Roast, one of my co-workers is hooking me up with 2nd row orchestra seats. Ohhhhh yeah, 30 hours from now, my eardrums will be non-existent. Fran is getting all excited at the prospect of getting White Stripe Meg White's sweat all over him. UPDATE: I hit "save" on this entry, and guess what? The walls started booming about 45 seconds later. The Annoying Fuckwad Neighbors must be reading my blog.