This is shaping up to be a really. shitty. week.
First I get a speeding ticket on Saturday morning (yes, I'm lumping Saturday into this week-Saturday is snowball X in the avalanche of bad ju ju) heading for work, a little late. Okay, so I was going 53 in a 35mph stretch, but it was the ramp to the parkway which should be a 50mph limit. Plus I really, REALLY had to go to the bathroom. Seriously, I had a turtle head going on there.
The cop slowly strolls up and taps the window. I try to act normally even though I'm desperately clenching my sphincter and starting to sweat a little, because you know, that puppy wants to come out. He asks the usual... is there a reason why you were driving at the speed of light in a negative mph zone at 4am when there is absolutely no one else on the road, but I had finished my third donut and was bored sitting there so I figured I'd piss on your cereal flakes.
What was I going to say to him? Please sir, I urgently need to drop a couple kids off at the lake, if you know what I mean. Otherwise there will be a stank in this car so foul it will send the earth rotating backwards. (that doesn't even make sense...whatever) So I tell him I'm late for work. He could care less, takes my info, strolls back to his cruiser, talks to his Mom, calls his bookie, plays a few games of solitaire, sends for back up (yes, a SECOND cop car actually pulled up), finishes his book, calls in a song dedication to Delila, polishes his shoes, rips a branch off a nearby tree to scrape the shitz from is teeth and thumbtacks a $155 ticket to my forehead.
Have a nice day, Ma'am. Drive safely.
Great. I get to work late, have to scurry... if you call clenching your butt cheeks and wobble-running with your knees together scurrying... to the ladies room before things get ugly and then have the honor to work a 12 hour day. Plus, as an added bonus for calling now, lose an hour of sleep because of the stupid, stupid daylight savings time thing.
That's right. Saturday was also the night we "Spring Forward" as every weather geek likes to cheerfully proclaim. Don't even get me started about that daylight savings crap. I don't see the point of it anymore, except that it messes up our collective internal clock twice a year and makes the equipment at work convulse. I mean, some states don't even bother with it, so why should the rest of us have to suffer. A link to an interesting site explaining DST is here.
All I know is this is kicking my ass. I get so confused in the evening. It's bright and sunny, yet it's 8pm and I still haven't had dinner yet!? WTF, mate?
Then I download a music file last night and get our computer trapped in a major "pop under" Hell. OHMIGOD!! It would not stop. Geo rightfully got ticked with me. Thankfully he managed to correct the issue after a couple of restarts. Ugh! I am such a bonehead!
Then Geo throws an enormous cannon ball of honesty at me (which I totally deserve) in an attempt to right my ship which has left me splintered and listing a little. Now all I really want to do is stay in bed, but I can't because I have to do, like, 2,000 PT exercises every day to try to strengthen and straighten my cantankerous 80-year-old back.
Perhaps it's the lingering effects of the bloody time change, or the full moon, or my inability to make sound decisions lately, but I am just waaaay off kilter.
I feel like Seinfeld, "I'm dating a virgin. I'm in this contest. (There's a naked girl living across the way.) Something's gotta give, BABY!"
Tomorrow is Friday the 13th. I'm staying home.
3 comments:
oh Murray, i'm feeling ya sister. Week. From. Hell. let me know if you really are staying home tomorrow, or will venture out for libations.... if i could request vodka pumped intravenously right now i totally would....
nice use of the word "shitty". You have stones, my friend. I'm not as comfortable as you yet to discuss bathroom duties over the internet. Kudos! Here's to a better next week!
Nextime, jis tell the copper ya gots ta poop. Even THE MAN unnerstands the occasional race witta devil. Whatever you do, don't pay the fine--you gotta go to court. Be frank witta judge--tell'im/'er you were embarrassed to admit your indelicacy t'd'officer. Odds are you'll get a reduction in your fine--the classic "five miles over." Besides, traffic court is your opp to flesh out your late-for-work-at-4-a.m. "excuse." (Only way that one works is if you're wearing your Dunkin' Donuts outfit at the time.) BTW--the secret code word I have to enter to post this comment is "toriere." Coincidence? You decide.
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