The dog didn’t eat my password.
I haven’t been sprawled on a beach somewhere, drinking fruity girly drinks. Sweet alcohol gives me a stomachache, and I’m at high risk for skin cancer (thanks for being Australian, Mom! I’ll also have you to thank for the cataracts, the paranoia, and the Welsh inbreeding).
I haven’t been off experiencing fabulous things, just so I could brag about them later. Instead, I’ve been weathering one of the more hellishly oddball storms of my 32 years.
First, my hours (and salary) got chopped in half. Then, I got sick and my adorable 200-year-old doctor put me on Anthrax Antibiotics for ten days. Then, my dad’s cyborg surgery had complications, and I spent a week semi-planning to semi-move to North Carolina, for the semi-time being. Oh, and I woke up Sunday morning with a cold. Like the cherry on top of a bad-luck sundae, I’m hacking and sneezing and not altogether pretty right now. And, oh, I almost forgot to mention that Aunt Flo has stopped in for a visit. (TMI? Never! But, "not pregnant" is always one for the plus column.)
Of course, there are a lot of good things happening in my world. Good people, the four bottles of Champagne rattling about the bottom of my fridge, cupcakes for breakfast, the new slats on my bed, the uh...other thing going on that I'm not telling you about. Nyeah.
But, overall, my Optimism-Meter is running low, and I don't want to torture y'all with my sad-sack not-currently-amusing existence. Life needs to get a hell of a lot funnier before I'll have much to say.
Or, you people could step up and be funny. To that end, I’m recruiting guest posters, at least until I can get my act together. (Well, not COMPLETELY together, because y’all live to watch me metaphorically faceplant my way across every aspect of my life.) Or you can write me for advice - I do love telling y'all what to do. Either way, I'm outsourcing this blog for a bit. So step on up and be my Indian call center, my Malaysian child laborers, my Temp-a-Tronic no-wage workers.
Submissions should go to scannerjockey@gmail.com.
7 comments:
Even sick, you are still damn funny.
I do enough humiliation on my own. Sorry kiddo...you need to find some other jackass to help you out.
Fine, Lem. Fine. Be that way. But would you like to be the jackass who helps me drink the leftover Champagne Friday afternoon?
Let me get some shit done at work and I'll make an ass out of myself on your page, which is an activity that comes VERY naturally to me.
BH - Awesome! I look forward to your submission.
Which, in my drug-addled mind, sounded really, really dirty.
Goodness. I'm very sorry about all of that. What a lot of difficult things to deal with, particularly all at once.
Some of that sounds similar to stuff I went through recently. (Not so much the Aunt Flo part, but I am constantly relieved not to be pregnant.)
If champagne and cupcakes don't do the trick, the regimen of Canadian beer and pizza for breakfast that I tried worked wonders for me. Good luck.
Just curious: why do you need new slats in your bed?
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