Today, at: http://www.brunching.com/toys/toy-cyborger.html )I found the acronym B.E.C.C.A.: Biomechanical Electronic Construct Calibrated for Assassination.

The weekend was rather dull. I slept off the strange fever I had for most of Friday and Saturday, than was really bored on Sunday.

Horrible pox on our landlady....

The highlight (I don't know if you could call this a highlight), is that our landlady, Frau Schmidt, was in rare form (which says a lot when describing that hideous, witch-like lady) while checking Tina out. It took her 2 hours, full of lectures like "You have to scrub the dishes harder when you wash them" (hello! Tina isn't living here anymore, why waste your energy!). Everytime Tina and I went up and down the stairs (I was helping Tina), Frau Schmidt would stop to yell at anything - this culminated at about 2 in the afternoon with Tina walking in the front door (AFTER she had checked out and got her deposit back, mind you), to be greeted with "YOU LITTLE LIAR! you said you didn't have a party last night, just a few people over for dinner who left at 10 p.m. Well [these fat old ladies who live int he downstairs apartment] said there were tons of people here making noise at all hours of the night."

This is the point where I blew up at Frau Schmidt. There was no PARTY - I was there. 5 of the girls who LIVE IN THE BUILDING, and about 8 boys had dinner in the common room. The boys (except for two of the MOST QUIET ones) all left by 9:30 p.m. to go to the local pub. The other two left by 10 p.m. after they finished cleaning up the tables. But Frau Schmidt wouldn't listen to a word I said, kept lecturing "I don't want this place to get the reputation of a party house!"

Tina's checkout took over 2 hours, with Frau Schmidt forcing her to do things like sweep the kitchen (which is shared for the whole floor). Well, I have to be on a 730 am train on my last day, I don't intend on putting up with it. If I didn't need the deposit returned to me so badly, I would really really like to just not schedule a checkout appointment with her and just drop the keys in the mailbox on my way out.

In other news...

I read Karen's journal this morning and pictured her in a Micra (think smaller than any car you have EVER seen in America). I got a good laugh out of that. Then I read Sarah's journal about the wonders of San Francisco (which I agree with) and how horrible the asphalt jungle of Houston is, and thought that I might've taken the wrong job offer. Then I read Jen's journal, and have to say that I can't imagine ANYONE who thinks Roanoke is a metropolitan region.