Right now,

right outside my window, in the back alley here, a young man with a purple mohawk, a Creeps shirt, german-army shorts and big-ass black doc marten’s is shouting obscenities at something in french. I wonder if he’s had a psycotic break? The expression on his face looks somewhat fearful, despite his shouting, and as far as I can see (my vision is limited by the evil red Cherokee that parks out back), he’s all alone. I’m tempted to go outside and see what’s up, but now he’s stopped and it wandering on down the alley towards Jervis.

Previously, some fucker knocked our side-view mirror off, which Leah apparently repaired with duct-tape. I haven’t been out yet to inspect the damage. You know, we have two scrapes and now a damaged mirror and all of these things have happened while the car was stationary, parked on the street down here – whilst moving, it has a near perfect driving record (I once had an accident at about 2 KpH in the metrotown parking lot. I barely noticed, there was no mark on the car. The dude’s Acura had a noticeable dent. He was (literally) hopping (and swearing) mad, but having rear-ended me, what did I care?).