Velociworld

Thievery Update

I'll be damned if a fellow didn't call my cell phone last night, and tell me he'd found my briefcase in the alley behind his music studio in Murray Hill, laptop and sundries still intact. I use the term music studio loosely, because when I drove over at lunch today to retrieve the bag I didn't see any damned recording room, mics, mixing board, nothing. Nothing but three sofas, a boom box, and a half empty bottle of Couvoisier crammed into a tiny, about to be condemned, strip mall joint. With no windows and a padlock the size of a tapir's ballsack. I'm pretty sure he was Smoove B. But an honest Smoove B. After he fetched my laptop bag and chatted me up about his woes in an old building with leaks and rats I threw some twenties at Smoove to reward his honesty and left rather quickly, because I'd noticed he'd locked that ballsack sized lock on the door after I'd entered, and I was getting a creepy vibe. I've been traumatized enough!

Back at work I booted up the old beast. It was in fine working order Still had the Lobster Boy wallpaper! I needed to purge some Totally Not Safe For Fucking Work (TNSFFW) stuff off on it, too. Yes, I confess. I've occasionally used the company laptop for blodgerage purposes. Because I'm lazy. In fact, I've closed off the Batcave entirely. I'm so indolent now my entire universe is confined to the bedroom, unless I'm attempting to char some dead animal parts in a skillet to ward off the pellagra. So the bedroom is a bizarre thing indeed. I sleep with dirty dishes sometimes, if the dog is in the crate and hasn't licked them passably clean. If the dog and I are both gaseous it's like a trench on the Western Front. I keep the sliding door cracked to let out the vapors, but it lets in creatures, both airborne and groundbound. They usually end up in the bathroom. It's best we don't discuss the bathroom.

So, I furiously got to deleting shit left and right. Now I'm not saying there were pictures of the splendid Velocirump on the harddrive, awaiting possible future posting. I'm just not denying it. Took me forty-five minutes, but I finally took it to my IT guy, and said you know that C Drive? Wipe that fucker clean. I insist. Here's a shiny silver dollar if it happens in the next thirty minutes, my fine geek friend.

Gee, now I have to spend tonight clearing out the new laptop. I've already had it a week, you know. And I can do a lot of bad shit in a week.