May 8th, 2008.

I’m wet. There’s no way around it, I’m soaking, soaking wet. Last night we played Joe Squared again – a decent enough place but we had that weird combination of weather – the first half was beautiful and perfect for strolling around the city and sitting OUTSIDE pizza places and the second half was when the sky fell in and the intense rain storms chased everyone back to their homes.

So sad.

Driving home, Rowan and I were pelted with much of the evaporated Atlantic and perhaps a sizable portion of parts of it that hadn’t bothered with the traditional water cycle and was simply being somehow siphoned directly onto my Saturn in full out oceanic form.

We listened to Coast to Coast AM and talked science and hobbits as we peered into the 2am darkness, dodging cracked-out truckers and stupid humans sans their lights. Police cars were nothing but red and blue blobs and the roads were sheets of reflections, distorted by waves and rain and – in short – visibility was poor.

Tornado warnings, flash flood warnings, we made it home sans incident with the freezing rain soaking through everything, hair and clothing hanging off our sodden flesh. It was gross, it was cold, 2.30am and I’ve got to be up in the morning. Grrowl.

At the moment the rain continues unabated as I sit in a dentist’s office thinking of warmer climes. There’s a rant earlier in the Journal about ring tones that i would Love to cut and paste here. Add to that about people who talk loud on their cell phones (which is everyone), but let it be known that David Zemple is “an applicant” and this guy’s pretty excited ABOUT said applicant and is eager to get him in for an interview. The other guy fortunately couldn’t get signal until he stepped back out in the rain and the only other call of the morning has been from someone evidently named “Bitch”, though this was never said with any particular rancour.