The Easiest Way to Get Free Hot Chocolate

My clock has taken things up a notch. It used to be that if there was a '7' in the time at which I had set my alarm, upon reaching that time, the clock would beep for a half-second and then reset itself to 12:00 (as detailed here). Now, '5' and '9' have been added to the mix. I completely overslept this morning as a result. Some would argue that the only rational course of action at this point would be to acquire a new clock. I know better. I know that this 5/7/9 chicanery isn't due to the clock's advanced age. No. I know that it's fucking with me. Taking things up a notch. Seeing how far it can push me. Buying a new clock would only be conceding defeat and at this point, I'm not ready to do that. That clock thinks it can fuck with me? Well we'll just see about that, won't we? I don't think it realizes how committed I am to winning this war of wills. I'll say it now: I'm prepared to miss all of my appointments and sleep 12 to 15 hours a day just to prove my point. What kind of example would I be setting for my kids if I just cut and run at the first sign of adversity? Just because I don't have kids doesn't mean that that's not a valid question.

I popped in Sonic Youth's Daydream Nation the other night, and I've been listening to it pretty regularly for the past few days. The album has reminded why I go through long stretches between Sonic Youth listening sessions: because they confuse me to distraction. I can't decide whether I absolutely love them or hate them with every fiber of my being (I eat a lot of bran, so my being has a lot of fiber). I cannot decide if I think they're geniuses or complete wankers. Somebody help me out, here. Seriously, who needs this kind of angst?

One band that I know rules: Iron Maiden. I mentioned the other day that I couldn't find their new DVD at my local Best Buy; the reason I was trying to buy the DVD there was because I recently received a Best Buy gift certificate, and seeing as how I'm travelling to New Jersey next month to see them, I'm already near the rigid Iron Maiden annual spending cap that I impose on myself (it's called fiscal discipline--look it up); thus, using the gift certificate for the Iron Maiden DVD seemed like a good idea. As such, I had to go to the only Best Buy in my area that had the DVD in stock. For some reason, the five closest Best Buys aren't carrying the DVD, so I had to drive for a half hour just to get it, which is admittedly pretty stupid, because any money that I saved by using the gift certificate was probably burned up, gasoline-style. But it's the principle, dammit. What that principle is, I have no idea. But I think you see my point. At any rate, after driving all the way to the only Maiden-havin' Best Buy in this here metro area, I couldn't find the DVD anywhere. Long story short: I asked for help, and the guy I asked for help then asked someone else for help, who in turn did the same thing, until, in all seriousness, there were six different Best Buy employees scouring every inch of their store, looking for Iron Maiden's Live After Death. It was pretty awesome. I realized that if I'm ever lost in the woods, I'm going to call up a Best Buy, tell them that I'm supposedly in stock, and then ask them to find me. I'll be wrapped in a blanket, sipping hot chocolate in the back of an ambulance with some sexy EMTs within an hour, guaranteed.