My old roommate, Richard -- some call him Chardasaurus Rex, others argue that he's evolved into a more refined Chard-bird -- is over here taking a shower because he hasn't had hot water in our old place for days. DAYS. It was originally due to a gas bill issue, but that was resolved immediately I understand, and... still no hot water. Mrs. Crum, the landlady (yes, that is her honest to God name, the whole time I lived there dealing with her I felt like I was in a warped neo-Dickens novel of some kind) responded to this problem by leaving Richard a business card with the following written on the back: "We came by to look at your water heater. You do know the water heater is in the hut out back."

And still no hot water.

Man, I've got to say, nothing beats having your friend as your landlord. Whenever there's a problem at our apartment, Dre and I just kind of look at each other, go "shit," and then the shit is handled. Too bad most of life will be spent dealing with the Crums of the world. Oh well. Gotta go.