Cabbies. Plastic. Beer flies.

I know this is teetering on the Seinfeldian, but I'd like to complain about cabbies and their wireless cellphone headsets for a little bit. Whenever these guys use these little things to contact whatever non-America they're from, it distracts them from listening to my directions. My apartment isn't too hard to get to, and I normally give pretty detailed directions right when I get in. Last night though, this guy was too busy chit-chatting in some crazy language instead of listening to me when I told him which street to turn onto off of Greenpoint Ave. So instead of asking me, he just sloooowly creeps down Greenpoint as BICYCLES PASS US, until I tell him where to turn. I don't even know what he was trying to do, but it made me mad and I wanted to write about it.

Okay. Now on to the plastic. I buy my cat, Spaceship, new toys every once in a while, but like a toddler playing with the box his Christmas present comes in, she's more into the simple pleasures. Last week I purchased an Xbox 360, FOR HER, and she instead just plays with the little plastic tie thing that held the controller in there (it's like those little plastic things the cops use when they think the person they're arresting is too poor for actual handcuffs). So now I'm stuck with this amazing video game system that my cat won't even play with! Luckily I found that they have a number of entertaining titles for humans as well, so I do partake from time to time, particularly in the title in which you drive a car as fast as you can into an intersection and try to cause as much damage as possible. Quite exhilarating.

I had a kegger a few weeks ago. It was a smashing success, and by that I mean "way too many people showed up, the beer was drank way too fast, and I didn't get to eat any of the huge sandwich that I bought." It was seriously a lot of fun though, and the night ended with Shandi soundly defeating a bottle of Jameson and locking several of the Whitest Kids out onto the fire escape. Even though the keg was emptied that night, I for some reason decided to take it back to the beer store TODAY. This was a mistake, especially because I had it sealed in a Tupperware trash can this whole time, and when I opened the can, I was met with a most unwelcome odor and an even more unwelcome CLOUD OF BUGS! Where did these bugs come from?!? I think they were born out of the bad beer! Are they the same kind of bugs that fly out of sack of rotten bananas? Should I grow an army of these bugs and then attempt to conquer Brooklyn? Hard-hitting questions, yes, but questions that MUST be asked.

I can't believe I just wrote that much about three stupid subjects. I'm gonna go pet Princess some more.