Friday, April 01, 2005


And don't be tryin' to pull any of that April Fool's bull on me.
I hate it. One year, my mother convinced me she had won the Lotto.

Now that was just plain cruel and unusual punishment considering how much I worry about not being a loser so I can support her and her eventual emphysema habit.

Speaking of money, I was proud, for once, to actually be paid on the first of the month so I could actually pay my rent on same. BUT! April Fool's...I appear to be out of checks. D'...illhole.

Furthermore, this morning I was dissed by a dry cleaner.

My friend wants to borrow my high school letterman jacket for a show and I'll be damned if it hasn't been attacked by moths.

Great. I have very little and what I do have, bugs eat.

My cat has worms, but he's fat, so he probably needs them, and I don't know if I need to haul the whole cat to the vet or just the worms.

Termites that weren't even mine chowed down on my antique desk. I don't blame them or anything; they're just trying to make a living, too. And the cats have had fun swatting the moths around.

I just don't want my buddy to be onstage with the uber-persnickety Groundlings when 44 moths decide to swarm out of the jacket, 'cuz they'd dock him if a moth swarm wasn't part of the sketch.

So I'm trying to get this dang thing cleaned, or at least fumigated, but even after thoroughly explaining the situation the extortionist dry cleaner and I were having this Mexican standoff, except not, because he wasn't Mexican.

First, he wanted me to sign a release form. Huh? Was my jacket going to be bungee-jumping, or what...?

I said, "Uh...okay."

Then he asked, "when do you need?!"

So I'm all, "Uh. When can you have it?"

"You can have Monday."

"Well, that defeats the purpose since he needs it Monday."

"What time?!"

Sigh. "I don't...know."



Plus he wanted to charge me half an appendage for it, and then he had to humiliate me by pointing out all the holes when I told him it was moth-damaged. Sheesh. Why do people have to go and embarrass you when it's already obvious that ectoparasites are chomping on your dainty garments?!

Why don't they just go ahead and point to you and say YOU'RE POOR! AND MESSY...! Through a MEGAPHONE...?!

Screw him, I'll just bung it in the washer. Sorry, moth larvae. Or maybe send it to TERMINEX, instead.

Then I got to work, and the caterer isn't here, which means the coffee sucks and things won't be good for me, pee-break wise.

I guess the joke's on me. SUCKA...!

Damn Apro Foo'...!


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