cheshire42

So, my thrice-damned air conditioning was FUBAR. To wit, the condition of my air was 'humid as all fuck' and at times my domicile was worse than the outside. This would not do, O Reader dear.

Prepared for the worst, I made the pilgrimage to the apartment complex Master Control Office. Now, I dunno about you, Reader, but my usual dealings with apartment management types are not pleasant affairs. There's tension, there's attitude, and there's music in the key of condescension, and that's a tune my booty don't dance to. Give me a C, a bouncy C. Hell, give me some Black Sabbath. Just don't sass me, fool.

...

but I digress.

What I got, instead of a Sass sammitch with a side of Static and Grits, was cooperation. I got a nice little tune called 'we'll get someone out today'. Nice number, really... it has a beat, and you can dance to it. Now, skeptical me withheld judgement until the end of the day. Fancy music is one thing, but finishing the concert is quite another.

Color me pleasantly surprised, the shade chosen by 4 out of 5 pessimistic bastards when the world bucks the trend and comes out okay. I get home, and it's a veritable igloo in there. All I needed was Chilly Willy to pop in and dance a jig. The air gods doth smile upon me, and tis a beauteous visage indeed. Think Uma Thurman with a lot of wind in her locks and little else. Ya know, Baron Munchausen style, yo.

So! Now your humble scribe is a jolly lad, all grins and dimples as he merrily beats the Stove Top out of computer-generated varlets in his latest amusement, the video game known as 'Guilty Gear X2'. Rejoice, and let the masses be at peace, for there is joy in Mudville at last.