It turns out, people outside glass houses shouldn't throw rocks either.

I was going to name this post 'F*ck it'. But I refuse to use that word on my blog. You can still call it that if you want. It's the general message. Currently I'm quasi-drowning in loads and loads of crap and I don't really care. In fact, I find it pretty funny. Here's a quick rundown of what's going down. I went to J & A's place to set up their Tivo and in the process broke the internet. The entire internet. Luckily I fixed it (with a minor assist from Nick) the next day. Whatev. That same day I decided, being on such a roll, I would go set up my brother's home network. That's where the bulk of this story takes place.

You see, my brother wasn't home. And his apartment complex locks the exterior doors. So if you don't live there you can't even get into the hallway. A good precaution but maybe they should make sure the FUCKING INTERCOM SYSTEM WORKS if you plan to do that. Did they? No. It doesn't work. Not even a little. My favorite part: they designate which button goes to which apartment by taking a sharpie and writing on the wall. It's a textured wall too, so it looks like the ghetto. But not quite as ghetto as it would look when I was done.

Think for a second, what would a guy who is at times the personification of a sitcom do in this situation? If you said "fall back to the grade schooler in love schtick of taking pebbles and throwing them at the window of the one person who's home" you're right! So I scooped up some of those tiny purple landscaping rocks and started flicking them at Webb's (second story) window. Sadly web was both looking at porn AND listening to music. So no joy on that one. (Pure speculation on the porn, but that's my backstory on him.) On a whim I decided that he may be in the living room, so I was flicking rocks over the balcony and against the siding when one missed the narrow strip of siding I was aiming at. Despite hitting the door with the least amount of force you can imagine, defying all logic, rewriting whole sections of Einstien's theoretical physics, it chipped the glass. "No way" I said looking at the tiny chip. Half a second later the entire window makes a completely fake sound and spiderwebs into amazingly tiny cells of glass.

So in the span of two days, I twice went to a house to fix something and broke it. I'm currently searching for a dead bird to throw against the door to support my "I think a bird flew into it" cover story. If you see one let me know.

- Scott

P.S. I'm heading over now to get some pictures.