Rob's first response: I... um... but it was just... yeah. So... yeah.

Please move somewhere else.

I replied that this was not an option. (I'm stubborn this way). He then had the following suggestions:

I would agree with your dad, with one change. Saw halfway through *only the top third or so* of rungs. Then Itchy McStealsalot won't crash to the ground until he's like 12 feet up. And be sure the cut is on the back/bottom quarter of the rung.

So, um, I did. Just three rungs up on each side, instead of 12 feet up, but I did saw partway through the rungs in several places, so if anyone tries to use the ladder they will be rudely surprised. Hah. As Willow said in one memorable Buffy episode (which Jude reminded me of last night, while I was out to dinner with him and while my apartment was being pillaged): "I owe you pain." I kind of like that sentiment at the moment.

Then I went to talk to my alderman (who, I discovered, closes his office at 1 p.m. on Fridays, the bastard -- I'll have to see if the office is open on Monday) and went to the police department to make it clear that I was paying attention to this case. They sent another team over to look at the ladder, who said they'd keep an eye on the building, suggested that I boobytrap the entrances ("Put boards with nails under the windows." "Is that even legal?" *Blank stare*) and told me more ways to secure my home ("One of you is going to have to get a dog." Excuse me?). I'm still not impressed.

But Rob is still thinking about me: "Now, the classified ad said, 'Easy access to second floor from street.' What exactly did you mean by that?"

Sigh. I at least had a bonus idea for the ladder-sawing. Tie a length of piano wire from the center of the third rung (from the bottom) to the house. Then your friend will hit the sawn rung, crash down, and potentially be sliced in half by the force of his fall. Oh, wait, you're Quaker, aren't you. Crap.

Nope, I just went to a Quaker school, and the pacifist education doesn't seem to have stuck when it comes to quelling the desire to maim people who continue breaking into my home. Sorry, Mr. Bernard.

Oh, and Newton is still thinking about me, even in the midst of his own traumas: You know it sounds like just one person doing all of this: think of all the people you know who care and worry about and love you.

The naseau should distract you for several hours.

I always said that boy should go into counselling.

Alarm gets installed tomorrow. Then comes the moat with the alligators. Or crocodiles. Whichever. Big pointy teeth.

Hmm. I wonder if Legolas does home security?

Merry F*cking Christmas.

I got a card from Rob last night that said "Hope your holiday season, um, gets better." I'm sort of chuckling about that as I'm trying to open the door. Hmm, it's stuck. Try it again. Still stuck. Almost as if the security latch has been enganged from the inside... oh hell.

Yup. We got robbed again. That's the fourth time, for those of you keeping score. (I didn't mention the third time in the blog as I didn't want to freak out my parents and hey, we'd just put in a bunch of security improvements. So we were safe after that, right? Well.....) They actually bent the lock on the back car gate (because the side gate was chained too securely), brought a ladder in and climbed up to a second story window.

The good news is, the security improvements we'd put in -- new locks, security latches that only open from the inside, etc. -- worked. They tried to force open the door and it didn't work. Hah! Bastards. Alas, they found another way. I have (had) a window into my pantry that was boarded up and nailed shut. They ripped the boards off and broke through the window, making off with most of my consumer electronics. Bastards, again.

So I'm furious. I'm livid. I'm damn near foaming at the mouth. I've called about 3 different brands of cops (the community policing representative, the assigning detective, the beat officers) and shared my information. Right now I'm waiting for the police to come over here again and take the ladder away. Because the theives left the ladder. Hmm. Think they're going to come back? I know, it's a l ong shot, as they've already robbed us four times, but I'm thinking it's a possibility that they mean to come back.

Wendy thought we should make a bonfire of the ladder in the middle of the street. My dad suggested sawing halfway through all the rungs. I'm trying to figure out how to get a bear trap that the cats won't trigger but the assholes will. All very tempting propostions.

In the meantime, I'm waiting for more cops to come before I visit the police beat office and my alderman, then go on a tour of neighborhood pawnshops to see if I recognize anything. Oh, and the alarm guy is coming to take a look at things before they install tomorrow. Joy!

So no, Rob, thus far, my holiday still sucks. Thanks for asking, though.

In other sucky news, Newton, who runs The Portadown News in his spare time, has been sacked because of the intimidation of a shmucklike columnist from the Andersontwon News, a West Belfast, sectarian paper. He basically outted Newton as the editor, dropped a gentle suggestion to his kneecapping-prone readers that perhaps they should pay a visit to Newton at his place of employment, and basically worked on a public campaign of intimidation. See, when The Onion pissed someone off, all they can really do is say "Damn them!" and hope everyone forgets about it. When the Portadown News pissed someone off in Northern Ireland, apparently calling for the editor's head on a platter is neither metaphorical nor below the belt.

So, if you're at all involved in Northern Ireland politics, supporting the folks back in the old country, whatever, please be so kind as to express your displeasure to The Andersontown News at their site. To read Squinter's column on the site, you need to register, and I wouldn't ask anyone to do that there. You can read the text of the column Squinter wrote on the PDN's message board here -- it's the 10th post down. It's a masterpiece of a hatchet job: Quotes taken out of context, words twisted, false accusations made (i.e., Squinter said Newton revealed his Squinter's identiy -- well, yes, after Squinter went on the board and told everyone who Newton was in a really bad code, in a sort of "We know who you are and can break your kneecaps" gesture.), the whole lot. It makes me very angry.

Like I didn't already have enough to be angry about.

In the tradition of (i.e., as a blatent rip-off of without actually being as funny as) The Brunching Shuttlecocks fabulous Phantom Menace Speed Ratings, I present my LOTR Speed Ratings:

Quick Draw McLegolas: A
"And the award for versatility with an arrow goes to...": A
Peter Jackson's inexplicable fascination with Cate Blanchett's eyes: C-
Does anyone in this freakin' movie have brown eyes?: D
Forced perspective: A+
Gandalf's tobacco skills : B+ (Eric gives them an A-)
Fuzzy toes-a-go-go: C
Next on WWF: The Elf-Dwarf smackdown!: B
"I am Ozymandias -- Look upon my giant toenails, ye mighty, and despair!": A
Is Gandalf breakdancing?: D
Somebody tell me what fabric treatment Saruman uses: B
Luna moths: A
New Zealand as a whole: A+
The white plastic gazebos of Rivendell: C-
Lorien's stairways a la strangler fig: B (Wendy gives them an A)
I want a Hobbit Hole (with higher ceilings): A+
The hobbit-pecked Elrond : B
"You need people of intelligence for this mission...quest... thing.... Where are we going?": B
Foreplay with swords while a hobbit lies in peril: D
"Nobody tosses a dwarf": B+
"Lean forward": A+
"I don't think he knows about second breakfast": B
Ringwraiths: A
"Run" with a shrug, as I go confront this ravenning horde of Uruk-Hai all on my lonesome: B+
Boromir's defense of the hobbits: A+
"We go we go" "But you're still here!": D (Yeah, I know, it's in the book)
Lotti: "Because those are just the most big-hearted hobbits in the whole world!": A
"Let's hunt some Orcs": C
Gimli's response to the above: B+
Having to wait another year for the next movie: F-

The funny stuff came from Wendy, Lotti, John, Andy and Eric. The lame stuff is mine.

Go see the movie. It's great. I creates the world to such an extent that you are sucked in and don't notice that it's a three-hour movie. Poor wee Lotti, who doesn't know the books and didn't know they'd filmed three movies simultaneously, was screaming "Wait, that's it?!" at the credits, because she wanted to know what happened next. God, it's good.

It is not, however, a children's movie. It's pretty damn scary. Don't take the rug rats, unless you want to deal with nightmares for several weeks.

See it now. Then see it again. I'll probably try to catch another showing over the weekend. Yes, it's that good.

LOTR! LOTR! LOTR!

I am a geek.

andydehnart: brunch club?
andydehnart: do you also play bridge?
sjerslix: Yeah, whatever
andydehnart: and then six holes, because nine are too exhausting?
andydehnart: and then have drinks at the club?
sjerslix: Let's see, what are the words I'm thinking of?
sjerslix: Could they possibly be ...
sjerslix: FUCK OFF

sjerslix: you do realize this exchange is going in my blog...
andydehnart: that's fine
andydehnart: (c) 2001 Andy Dehnart and related entities. All rights reserved, sucka.
sjerslix: Heh
sjerslix: Now fuck off

Smartass.

So, if you need evenmore evidence that I am officially old, a bunch of us have a sort of brunch club -- once a month, someon new hosts brunch at their house. It was my turn on Sunday, and Imade a particularly tasty egg-bacon-and-cheese casserole and aebleskiver, a Danish breakfast... thing. It looks like a donut hole, but isn't deep-fried and is made with a pancakey/waffley sort of batter. You need this incredibly heavy cast-iron pan to make them, as well as some sort of knitting needle or spike or something to turn them. The ones I made turned out ok, but not (obviously) as good as my grandmother's. There is obviously a trick to turning those little buggers, and said trick has not been passed down to me. I need more practice. Anyway, the only person who'd ever even heard of aebleskiver was Wendy, and she didn't stick around to tell the others whether I succeeded or failed.

We ended up having (surprise!) to much food, as a couple people flaked out (hmmm, Lotti!?) and a a few more were feeling crappy/dealing with husbands and/or infants that felt crappy. So the dozen Ann Sather's cinnamon rolls were not consumed by the six of us. (If you're ever in Chicago, damn, go there -- best cinnamon rolls in the world!) I brought the remaining six into work this morning, where they were quickly consumed. I also have a pretty full basket of clementines, and ate breakfast casserole for dinner. Plus two extra cartons of juice. I have a feeling I'll be keeping that until my parents come out to visit affter Christmas.

Today is grey and icky and cold, so, given a choice, I would have stayed in bed all day with the cats as hot-water bottles. So I'm grumpy. I know, it's a shock and a half. Therefore, I will take this opportunity to rant about the "festive" "decorations" that our building has put up in the lobby. We have these two-story-tall balloon things -- toy soldiers, wreaths, a gingerbread house. (Note -- the pictures are just of similar things I found on the web. You don't get to see the true hideousness). They're tacky and icky, and just make me think "Dart gun." Grrrr. The other buidings in the complex get trees and pointsettas and such, but we're stuck with balloon hideousness. I wonder if they will let us loose with a blowpipe or something after the holidays.