You really have no idea.
This morning I'm going to rant about the part of the job that sometimes scares me the most: going inside people's houses. It's just weird sometimes to show up on random people's doorsteps everyday and be let into their houses to talk to them and take photos. One day it could be a nice elderly lady, or the next it could be an accused child pornographer - which happened once, and it was the most sterile and jesus-friendly place I've ever seen. For the most part, I don't judge. Everyone has a different lifestyles or incomes, and my family had a rough time once, so I keep an open mind. But....every so often (and I'm talking once a week, at least) I'll go into a place that just blows my mind. I was at a house once where they let the baby crawl around on the living room floor, which had huge holes in the carpeted flooring and nails popping up out of boards (as if they decided to shovel for buried treasure right there in the room). One of these days I'm waiting for that scene from "Silence of the Lambs" to happen, where I'm in the kitchen, see the rare asian moth fluttering around, and realize I'm talking to the serial killer.

I waited a few weeks to put this photo up [see above]. My reporter and I were invited into the house. The guy (around 40) pretty much lives out of his bedroom and it is an unbelievable mess. So bad, that if it were me, I would say something like, "Hold on. I'll go in the room and get the paperwork. It's kind've messy in there." Hell no. He led us into the bedroom, and didn't care at all. At one point, while seaching for a photo on his computer he scrolled through several dozen HARDCORE PORN photos and said, "Heh. Don't mind my porn." I took this photo as I was snapping test shots to get the right color balance - later, I showed it to my reporter and she made a retching sound.

The one that got away.
I've become quite the little eBay addict, but I really only like the paypal option. I hate the whole auctioning process. This week I was totally fucked outbid on a robot I wanted. Usually, I see the robot the day it's posted and just buy it. But, this week I fought a long battle against a faceless foe who kept knifing me in the ribs with his (or her?) incessant counter-bids. I thought I was clever and posted a higher bid in the last hour, but he got me. I lost the purple robot.
On a positive note: my competitor's feedback rating is like 70% 'failure to pay', so maybe all is not lost. Until the day the purple robot is on my shelf (where it belongs), haiku is my only solace:

My purple robot.
Oh, why did you hurt me so?
You know I need you.

Feel free to leave your own comforting purple robot haiku's for me in the comment section below.