I am having one of those periods where I am being an A+, prime grade, less-than-7-percent-fat Assmitten. I chalked up my rough January to moving out of my old house and immediately starting school, so I was losing crap and forgetting about deadlines and whatnot. Now it is almost March and I still have my head about halfway up my ass. I feel like I have some parts of Grown-up 101 down cold, whereas I am taking remedial courses to make up for some of the other logic I seem to be missing.
Case in point: in late January I put my rent check, ready to be mailed, in my purse and then left my apartment, assuming I would run across a mailbox as I was out. What I did was drop it somewhere as I wandered all over town. I believe this was the night of the mai tais. I wigged and mailed another one, while trying to put a stop payment on the first one. However, St. What’s-His-Bucket was clearly looking out for alcoholic morons or whatevs, because I got a call from my confused landlord saying that he had received two rent checks from me. Some kind fucker had picked up my check and mailed it. Now I’m paid up through March! Thanks, St. W.H.B.
Moral: Pay bills, and then drink beer before liquor. No! Don’t do that, either. Pay bills, and then have a quiet cup of Earl Grey.
More: on the last day of my PhD interview days, I woke up late and ran out to the car I was borrowing, because I was late. I had that internal scream because I was all unshowered and late and hadn’t been home yet and the mental clock was ticking and I could hear that evil-lady robotic James Bond immanent-doom announcer counting down in my head: “T-minus forty minutes until deto-nation.” And then I saw the inch of frost on all the windows. The poor, innocent woman across the street who was genteelly scraping ice off her windshield with a genuine ice scraper was giving me understated dirty looks as I was frantically gouging at my ice with my debit card and yelling “Cocksucker! Cocksucker! Cocksucker!”
KER-Snap. My debit card shattered into three pieces, which are still living in the bottom of one of my purses. Seven-to-ten business days later, I am still waiting for my beautiful debit card. I think I miss it more than I would one of my lungs. I have had to go into fuckity branches and withdraw money, and when I don’t have money I have had to write checks. I’m all for being retro, but this is ridiculous.
The stupid compounds and multiplies: I lost my driver’s license yesterday (don’t ask) and today I realized I couldn’t get money or write checks without ID, except at my one grocery store that I had written a check at, who had me in the computer. I walked down there with Frannie to replace all my crappity moldy food and was confronted by a dark store and hand-scrawled sign that said “Sorry! Electrical problems! Store is closed until 2:00 2:30 3:00 3:45.” That was looking bad…we wandered to the park and came back, and it finally reopened, which is great, because now I have some crapping food.
All right, universe, I get it! I will try harder to be smarter. I will behave myself more. I will NEVER use anything important from my wallet to scrape ice. I certainly hope I am done getting my karmic spanking now, because I am good and tired.
In Other, Cattier News
Hot, hot, hot gossip: Supa ran into my baby�s daddy and his lady at one of the big local parks yesterday. I just peeped my archives and I think I forgot to tell you that he hooked up with this woman less than a week after I moved out of the house. Supa said it was awkward, to say the least.
Me: I need details! What does she look like?
Supa: Well…looks like he traded down, that’s for sure.
Me: I don’t think he had time to be selective. I heard she has a car and a job and crap, though.
Supa: That must count for something.
Me: I need adjectives, yo.
Supa: Mousy. I walked away and the first thing I said to Mr. Supa was “mousy.”
All of what Supa said may be slightly hyperbolic, but I love her for saying it. He was at the park with his lady after having my mother pick Frannie up to watch Frannie during his time with her. My mom offered to do this which is not surprising; the grown-up part of me just wants to say “oh, AIIIIGHT,” and the fifteen-year-old part of me says “can’t you summon up one ounce of loyalty?” Perhaps I should phone her and ask her as she is making dinner for him tonight. Give my mom a nipple, cause she SUCKS.
… and short, too!!! :)
Dude, to paraphrase the Simpsons, physically, it’s not possible, but your mom sucks AND she blows!!!!!
I love the ‘give my mom a nipple…’
Yes, we’ve had some incidents of that nature which I am too embarassed to disclose. My insane stupidity–it just makes your little flubs look charming. It’s actually a good story so maybe I’ll post it although I was soooo stupid that I swore mi hombre to secrecy. I long ago flunked adulthood 101. Sometimes these things go in streaks…You are in line for some good karma though, chica! So I’ll hope you’ll be seeing it soon.
Yeah, we went to this house-buying counseling class, and they’re like, “One of the requirements is that you have to go 12 months without a bank overdraft.” I about shot my coffee. I have pretty much a monthly fucking overdraft.
They’re so cool and non-judgemental though. When we asked if it counts if you have overdraft protection she said calmly, “Well, they still perceive it as a mis-management of funds.”
I just wanted to cry. I’m like…all about mis-management of funds.
Man, my worst is when a late car ins. payment ended up costing me about twenty thousand dollars. That hurt me.
Miel: Well, these are small, but demoralizing. I usually save my biggest gaffes for my interpersonal relationships.
Parents!
phhht, those good-for-nothings!
Everytime my mom is in the room with the Hub, she flirts with him………it makes me ill.
feh!
good to know about the debit card, I always use that when I have to (which is rare in Seattle!)
dur! on the window!!!
I use it all the time otherwise, too, clearly retardation set in when I was posting.
Maybe it isn’t a question of confused loyalty on your mom’s part.
Maybe she just wants to scam some more time with the munchkin.
Wait… let me get this straight.. it was your husband’s day with Frenchie and he asked YOUR mom to watch her so he could go to the park with the ho? WTF???? He couldn’t be bothered or what? Maybe I’m reading it wrong.
I hope at least he had his mouse on a leash.. you know there are leash laws.
No dude, you are totally reading it right.
Rachel: That is a good point. I just wish she would go through me. We are on friendly terms, at least.
You know that thing where you have a bunch of thoughts about something and you add them all up and cross out the things that cancel and carry the two and it all adds up to…
“Hm,”?
Yeah.
Hm.
By the way, I was recently blasted on my favorite soap opera blog for being a raging asshole. The blog is kind of weird because I’m pretty sure the person who writes it doesn’t really exist. I think she’s someone’s writing project. But I’m totally addicted to it, not least of all because I get to say horrible things to that kind of blog commenter who posts comments containing nothing but:
)))))hugs((((((
Anyway, the fake girl recently broke up with her fake girlfriend who she was supposedly going to Canada to marry and I was making fun of all the people who were posting “hug” comments and one of them just flipped out on me.
And mostly I didn’t care, because, you know– the whole blog is fake, and even if it’s not I’d still feel okay about most of the stuff I say there. But part of me couldn’t help wondering, like, “Should I tone it down? Clearly my behavior alienates people. Should I try to be nicer? Spend more time building people up? Less time tearing them down?”
And then I thought of you.
And lo, I did say unto myself, “Heh. Fuck ’em.”
Joshua : That last one was fucking beautiful. Fuck ’em, indeed!
Never spend more time building them up. It only encourages them. Tear it all down.