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So it all started a few weeks ago. Instead of the Swine Flu, I get an infection in my Mastoid bone or muscle or whatever the hell is directly behind my right ear. It’s not as sexy as the well publicized flu, but it still hurts enough for me to go to the doctor. All I want is a prescription to make the infection go away. That’s it. Instead, I get treated to a CT scan to make sure nothing’s creeping into my brain to live with all the other junk that’s already creeping around in there. The scan comes up empty (insert joke here), but I’m sure I’ll get a nice bill for my insurance premium. Oh, and the prescription I wanted so badly are for pills that are bigger than my thumb and taste like rusty pennies fished out of algae-infested seawater. Thanks!!
Then it’s time to renew our townhouse lease. I’d already paid the pet deposit for my cat (now deceased) so I figured there was no harm in mentioning the new dog. You know, just to keep everything square and above-board. Turns out the deposit doesn’t carry over. Oh, and the new management has instituted an extra monthly pet fee tacked on to the rent. Screw you, Honesty!! Now Abby needs to get a paper route to cover her extra $25.
Today, I had to get up early. Now, 7am may be normal weekday wake-up time for most of you, but I usually get up around 10am and write throughout the day until around 3am. I don’t get up at 7 in the morning unless something is on fire and even then, it depends on what’s burning. I had a radio interview for Skinners set up at 7:05 this morning. I got up, punched myself in the face to get the blood flowing and waited for the call from the studio. You guessed it. They never called! Even worse: this is the SECOND time this same radio station stood me up!!! Looks like my hype machine blew a fuse.
Olivia Munn is MIA on Attack of the Show.
Osama Bin Laden is still on the loose.
American Idol continues to run over by 2 minutes every damn week, which screws up my DVR tapings of Fringe. I mean, what excuse could there possibly be for a major network juggernaut like American Idol to just putz around and. . .wooopsie! We ran over by a few MORE minutes than the extra two we already have so we can hear Randy say ONE MORE TIME that someone’s “singing was solid, but it was just ok for me. The connection just wasn’t there.” Or “DUDE, you can SING!!! I don’t care about connecting to the audience, or whatever. This is a SINGING contest and you ROCKED IT!!”
Today’s comic book day. At least that should go well. Now, if I drive up and find the place sunk into a hole or closed due to fear of Bovine Cold or Hamster Sniffles, I’ll be really pissed.
Then it’s time to renew our townhouse lease. I’d already paid the pet deposit for my cat (now deceased) so I figured there was no harm in mentioning the new dog. You know, just to keep everything square and above-board. Turns out the deposit doesn’t carry over. Oh, and the new management has instituted an extra monthly pet fee tacked on to the rent. Screw you, Honesty!! Now Abby needs to get a paper route to cover her extra $25.
Today, I had to get up early. Now, 7am may be normal weekday wake-up time for most of you, but I usually get up around 10am and write throughout the day until around 3am. I don’t get up at 7 in the morning unless something is on fire and even then, it depends on what’s burning. I had a radio interview for Skinners set up at 7:05 this morning. I got up, punched myself in the face to get the blood flowing and waited for the call from the studio. You guessed it. They never called! Even worse: this is the SECOND time this same radio station stood me up!!! Looks like my hype machine blew a fuse.
Olivia Munn is MIA on Attack of the Show.
Osama Bin Laden is still on the loose.
American Idol continues to run over by 2 minutes every damn week, which screws up my DVR tapings of Fringe. I mean, what excuse could there possibly be for a major network juggernaut like American Idol to just putz around and. . .wooopsie! We ran over by a few MORE minutes than the extra two we already have so we can hear Randy say ONE MORE TIME that someone’s “singing was solid, but it was just ok for me. The connection just wasn’t there.” Or “DUDE, you can SING!!! I don’t care about connecting to the audience, or whatever. This is a SINGING contest and you ROCKED IT!!”
Today’s comic book day. At least that should go well. Now, if I drive up and find the place sunk into a hole or closed due to fear of Bovine Cold or Hamster Sniffles, I’ll be really pissed.
