This is why I love the janitor at my place of work:
Me: Hi, Pat. How are you doing?
Pat: F!*%ing awesome. How are you F!*%ing doing?
Me: I'm doing well, thanks.
Pat: That's f!*%ing awesome. [Noticing my hair is shorter than it was a couple of days ago] Did you get a hair cut Richie? Richie Rich?
Me: Yes, Pat. I got my hair cut.
Pat: A little boy's cut? Did you get a little boy's hair cut?
Me: Yes, Pat. I got my hair cut.
Pat: It looks like a little boy's hair cut.
Me: Yeah, I got my hair cut.
Pat: A little boy's hair cut.

I've decided to declare myself Emperor of Fun Land. From now on, all the pretenders to the throne of Fun Land will be executed in some horrific fashion. And then after a period of computer aided mourning, I will invite all the citizens of Fun Land to partake in my Joy Array Simulator. It's the best virtual Joy Array on the planet.

So, I'm taking applications for immigration to Fun Land. All you need to do is make me shoot coffee out of my nose. Not much of a challenge, is it? Oomm thinks my co-workers may get sick of this and circulate a petition banning me from spraying coffee out of my nose, but I will ignore it and spray them all with my nose coffee! Mua-ha-ha! Tremble before me pathetic humans!

So I'm almost finished watching the sixth and final DVD of Star Blazers - The Quest for Iscandar (yes, I am a geek) when I lose power in the whole apartment. ("What's going on down there, Orion!") Anyway, I call the landlady to find out where the fuse box is and she says it's in the basement and I should be able to see it right away. Which turns out to be true. It is easy to spot. It's right next to the six other fuse boxes, none of which are labeled.

After a whole bunch of me not knowing what to do, I call her again and she sends her son over to take a look. Apparently, he came and went without even knocking on my door because the next thing I know the landlady comes by my apartment to ask me if the lights are back on, to which I answer "No". So she says someone else will come by. Sadly, he was unable to make the lights come back on, either. Apparently, an electrician needs to be called and was (hopefully) called first thing this morning.

So I didn't get to burn Oomm's CD last night, and I didn't get to see the Star Force get to Iscandar, and I didn't get to hear Dr. McGee, and I didn't get to continue my experiments in sloth-human interaction. Generally a wasted night. I did get to talk to H#1, so it wasn't a complete washout. Oh, and I found my cat's collection of voodoo dolls. So, Beth, I am going to release your children from the evil influence they have fallen under. Any writing on the walls in permanent magic marker which you experience from now on cannot be blamed on Mr. Smitey (aka my Kitty Pot Pie!).

Reading The Master and Margarita by by Mikhail Bulgakov
Wishing that my power will be back on when I get home
Plotting to spray all my enemies with nose coffee