Three unrelated things

The last time I heard screams like this coming from the street below, I damned their perpetrator and beseeched him to shut the fuck up from behind closed windows. Several minutes later, I learned that those screams were not the contribution of a random jackass bent on disturbing the relative quiet of a residential neighborhood, but the depressing consequences of what happens when a motor vehicle kills a person’s dog.
This time, at 5:35 a.m., the screams are hosted by a random loudmouth jackass, for no apparent reason, and I pray a motor vehicle forever relieves him of that ability.

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In more upbeat, peppy cheery happy-go-lucky* news, I want you to see this, because it made me oh so very happy, and I do not want to be happy all by myself and I think you deserve to be happy too. Or at least some of you do. Others, well, I think it would be best if you continued to wallow in your misery and bemoan whatever it is you habitually bemoan. So consider this creation of someone else’s, my gift to you, the non-wallowers. (If you are a wallower, you are not permitted to look at that link. Go Google an ex-boyfriend or something. Or a new one. And then pretend, when you’re on a date with him, that you don’t know all the stuff you found out about him on Google, and act surprised when he tells you he used to play in a band.)
Aaaaalsooooo: Keep your guesses coming regarding What Is It?. All of you who have contributed so far have succeeded in making me either hungry or nauseous, and for that you deserve congratulations via a very hearty collegial pat on the back. You may continue feeding my hunger and/or nausea through Friday.
P.S. It amuses me — not to no end, and not even close to no end, but still it amuses me somewhat — that I posted this entry one minute shy of exactly 12 hours after yesterday’s entry. It also saddens me to think that if only I’d waited one more minute, my amusement would, indeed, have been without end. C’est la vie, you say? C’est la shut up you are not French, I say.
*I was tempted to write “happy-go-fucky”, but that immediately made me think of a two-bit Bangkok hooker saying, “Fucky sucky, me love you long time, Joe” to a sailor circa 1940-something. (Do two-bit Bangkok hookers still say that, to sailors [or anyone else] circa 2000-something? Did they ever say it at all?) (And why do I, at age something-something, still giggle internally at the mere mention of the word “Bangkok”?)