Seneca Crane, Industrial Accident Attorney

          The reader will already know that my cell phone of five years has rung its last. Today is the day it happened, and I was consumed by an irritation that, while more or less gone, immediately crippled my writing efforts. At work, I had to go to the IRS -- again -- and enjoyed listening to Lori make a phone call. "Thank you for calling the Department of Industrial Accidents!" You're welcome. I stopped at the Verizon store on my way home, but they were no help; my phone can turn on and off, but the screen needs to work for them to change a setting and allow the transfer of contacts. There's a micro USB port on the phone, we don't have the technology to circumvent this by now? More to the point, the non-use of removable SIM cards drives me up a wall, but I have no choice but to deal with it at this point.
          I came home to hang out with the Delivery Man and Iris; we played Super Smash Bros., discussed chicken, and watched the 2013 Saxxy nominees. After David took off, Iris and I finished The Hunger Games, which I was somewhat satisfied with. Wes Bentley's eyes, Donald Sutherland's beard, and Stanley Tucci's hair all gave pleasing performances, and the alleged stars of the film were passable to watch, if not memorable. (Just kidding about the hair etc., those guys are all fantastic actors and I feel that their presence really bolstered the quality of the movie.) I'm not a fan of Woody Harrelson in terms of his personal character outside of film, but he was a good casting pick for the role of Haymitch. While we were trying to watch the movie, some hood was raging on his phone immediately outside our door, apparently at somebody who had the audacity to "call a nigga on his phone" and talk shit. I can't overstate how many times he shouted, "Come find me!" Seriously, if you don't want to speak with the guy, just hang up...
          Quotes of the day:
"Is this paraphernalia, sir?" - a federal cop, fuxxin wid another cop
"You see this face? This is my engineering face." - The Delivery Man
"You want to meet me? Come to Tremont Street, bitch! Roxbury, Massachusetts!" - dude outside the apartment
"Come find me! I already gave you the fuckin' address, nigga!" - dude outside the apartment