I woke up at exactly 8:00am. This was my first mistake. I should have woken up at 6:30am, because I had to be in downtown Portland for a driver improvement class at exactly 8:00. So, as you can see, waking up at 8:00 instead of 6:30 got my day off to a terrible start. I obviously missed the class.

No skin off my back, though. It's not like I need a driver improvement class. I'm a good driver. It just so happens that I'm also a fast driver, and the DMV doesn't like fast drivers, so they send us to driver improvement courses. Sigh. They'll probably try to revoke my license since I missed the class, but I'll be eighteen in a few weeks and all that silly crap will get swept away and I'll have a clean slate. Then I can get as many speeding tickets as I want, as long as I don't mind paying for them. Yay!

For lack of anything cooler to do, vandemore and I drove around aimlessly for a while. We ended up at the mall, which was cool, because people in malls are funny. We continued walking around aimlessly, decided we were hungry, and went to the food court. I got a bourbon chicken burger from some Cajun place. I then proceeded, on my first bite, to dump the contents of the burger all over my shirt and pants. This didn't surprise me at all, sadly. I spent the next few minutes rubbing sauce out of my clothing and picking at the chicken with a fork. Yum.

We discussed ways to make money. Ideally, I'd get paid for noding. But unless Blockstackers spontaneously decides to hire me, that ain't gonna' happen. So of course, the conversation turned to whether or not either of us would ever consider robbing banks. Several feasible methods for pulling off a successful bank robbery were discussed. We also spent some time wondering whether the evolution of society has played a role in determining why there seem to be more fat women than fat men. In the end, though, I think I decided it's just some kind of statistical oddity. Or perhaps fat women just look fatter than fat men, so we don't notice fat men as much. I dunno.

vandemore dropped me off at my apartment later, and there was a tiny little white fluffy-haired dog wandering around outside. It had been raining all day, and the poor dog was soaking wet and obviously not feeling great. Its two back legs were gimpy, too. And it was wearing a collar. I instantly hated the dog's owners.

I walked up to it slowly, clicking my tongue to get its attention. It saw me and started jumping around in circles (an odd sight, considering the gimpy legs). It hobbled up to me and I started to read the tag on the collar, when a nearby apartment door opened and some big fat guy in a wife beater shirt waddled out carrying a newspaper and yelled something at me in Spanish. The dog took off and ran into the apartment. The guy yelled at me again. My Spanish vocabulary is quite limited, but it sounded like he was saying something like "My dog, leave it alone, go away." Goddammit, I hate it when I try to do something nice and end up getting shit for it. I gave him a mean look and went home.

What a weird day. I want a life, bad.