are you fucking kidding me?

sorry for the early morning profanity, but it had to be said. a few weeks ago, i wrote an entry about how i'd been had by the last mosquito of the summer. i was wrong. last night i was bitten again, and i discovered my assailant clinging to the ceiling. it was so full of my blood that it actually seemed to be hanging by its two front legs, the sheer weight of its abdomen pulling it downward. asshole. i creamed it with walter's copy of "the watchmen." thanks for letting me borrow that, by the way.

the thing is, i was up until maybe 2 or 3 doing some writing, and i set my alarm for 6:30. in that brief window, in my sixth floor apartment, through the cracks in my aircon in my one narrow window, this mosquito infiltrated my room and attacked me. i'm convinced that the mosquitoes of the world have a personal vendetta against me.

so be it. the watchmen and i are ready for you.