The hills have eyes, but they can't see much. They can't hear too well these days, either. In fact, we hill dwellers ought to pool our funds so MetroPCS users can buy the hills some hearing aids. Gee, that'd be swell.

Other than watch crows fight each other in midair the amount of stuff available to do way up here is just about nil. No phones, no food. Well, no good food. Let's see, what do we have here: organic ginger snaps, Wheat Thins, month-old Fuji apples, and a microwavable frozen enchilada. I've looked at that enchilada several times and questioned its existence. Fighting a losing battle against boredom I unwrapped it, set it on the counter, and pondered it. It just doesn't look like food to me. When I get hungry enough I head down to Mission and find a decent restaurant to blow money on. Anything to avoid eating that frigtening contraption of beef and what may be government cheese.

Other than talk to cats and stare and strange "food" products, sitting is a choice thing to do up here. There's all kinds of things to sit on up here: chairs, carpets, those weird recliner thingies that aren't recliners (what's plural for "chez?"), tables, etc. Out of all of these things I prefer to sit on the kitchen counter. Oh what fun it is to look at empty cabinets all around you.

It's a nice day, though. No point in moping. I'm sure there's someone, somewhere, that I can be bothering right now, but unfortunately I only have two phone numbers from Cali people. If I bug them any more than I do now I might have them filing restraining orders, but what the hell! It's lonely here!

Maybe I'll just catch a flick, or something.