My neighbor has a big fat cock.

I can't imagine any reason for owning a rooster in North Hollywood that doesn't involve A) eating its sweet, sweet roosterflesh, or B) attaching cute little bird-sized razor blades to its talons before forcing it to fight to the death in some sweaty, smoke-filled garage down in the Valley of the Mud People.

The cock-a-doodling little fuck seems doomed either way, which is just fine with me. If I wanted to rise with the sun, I'd set my alarm clock.

More randomness:

Yesterday I answered my door to find some huge guy with a ponytail and a deathmetal t-shirt standing there. He was dripping sweat--and despite what you may think about Southern California, yesterday was cold--and his eyes were very, very wide. Like, anime character-wide. "I live on the other side of the building," he whispered. "And I think there's someone in my apartment."

He was literally whispering, by the way. And his voice was shaking, while his eyes kept darting back and forth.

Thinking quickly, I said: "Oh."

"Yeah," he said. "You mind if I come in?"

Now I may be a dumbass, but I'm not stupid. This clearly guy either wants to rape me or steal my new TV. And I'm not sure which would be worse, but I do know this sweaty son of a bitch is lying. He doesn't live in my building. I take another look at his muttonchops and decide he's definitely here for the rape.

I don't own a gun...not because I dislike violence, but just because I'm afraid I'll get drunk and accidentally shoot myself while diving sideways over a couch, Tequilla-style. But I *do* own a ridiculously sharp X-acto knife that I leave stashed just behind my front door, so while this guy is talking, I'm sloooooooooooowly reaching behind the door with my free hand and sliding the blade free. It feels good in my hand. Real good. And in the background somewhere, Battle Without Honor or Humanity suddenly starts playing. Yes. I've been training for this moment my entire life. Well, not really, but I have seen lots of Ashley Judd movies.

"Um...that's not gonna happen," I tell him, "but if you want to wait out here, I'll call the cops for you."

"No cops," he mumbled. "Don't want no cops here. Can I just, you know, come in and sit down?"

"No," I tell him. "Sorry, but no way."

Now he's getting desperate, shuffling from one foot to the next. "I just need some water, man," he pleads. "Just let me come in and get a glass of water."

"Fuck that. See ya." I shut the door in his face.

And now I'm feeling pretty proud of myself. My first attempted mugging, and I passed with flying colors! Wallet and sphincter firmly intact. Sorry, Crazy Homeless Guy, but you'll just have to settle for one of my elderly Persian neighbors, ha-ha.

Except later I saw the same Crazy Homeless Guy on the sidewalk talking with another one of my neighbors, and they seemed to know each other. And judging from the nasty glances they shot me as soon as I came around the corner, it's not hard to figure out who they were talking about.

Whoops.

In my defense, though, I don't like being raped.