Oh yeah baby. Police reunion on the Grammys tonight.
First, a good story or two.
1. Two Saturday nights ago, before I went to bed, I was reading a comic book about zombies. Inside scoop, zombies scare the hell out of me, but this book is really good, mostly about the people, not the biters. Anyways, Sunday morning, I was brushing my teeth, I set my tooth brush down and reach for a towel. In doing so I knock my toothbrush off the counter. It lands on the floor and begins to vibrate loudly and SPIN IN A CIRCLE! People this is a regular toothbrush. I’ve had it about four months, no vibrating and no SPINNING IN A CIRCLE. It’s a regular toothbrush. It’s not big, it doesn’t have a detachable head. It’s a toothbrush. Apparently they are making regular-looking toothbrushes into SONICtoothbrushes. But reading about zombies, and then watching your TOOTHBRUSH spin around on its own, is not the best.
2. Last Monday night, I was asleep on the couch before Heroes and Studio 60 (the GREATEST SHOW EVER) came on, and I heard a gentle rapping on the door (rap like "knock," not rap like "NWA"). I groggily (yeah I made it up) answered the door to find a cute little old lady. “I hit your car,” she said in a small voice. I zombie out to my car to find...nothing. No dent in the bumper, no nothing. Just a crack that was already there. After quite a few minutes, I convince her that I don’t care. She says that if anything ends up happening, get in touch with her. Fast forward to late Tuesday night. Dottie tries to open my door after the songwriters guild, and it won’t open. So she pulls harder and there’s a loud BANG! And now there’s a dent in my door and I realize there’s more damage than I knew about. There are cracks in my quarterpanel which was pushed back into my passenger side door so that it wouldn’t open. Now I’ve gotta put my shop in the car. I mean my car in the shop.
Hopefully, my work is gonna pony up soon, cuz they are pissing me off. I’m doing all the work, taking all the responsibility, but not getting the money and keep getting my legs swiped out from under me by the higher ups. I mean, I’m actually signing the leave requests for other TEMPS. Other temps like ME. Ugh.
Next story: The Lovey Dovey Dinner Date. (ha. i typed Dover. thanks K.)