damn yo | this shit sucks

I was overjoyed to learn that alternate side parking was suspended today and that I wouldn’t have to get up early to re-park the car. A couple of reasons for overjoyedness.

1) I don’t have a shovel to get that fucker out.
2) But even if I did, I don’t know where the keys are.

I’m thinking that perhaps I should kill myself before my mother does. She called yesterday. Asked about her baby (the car). I lied. Said it was safely tucked away in her parking spot. Why would I make her worry on her vacation, you know?

But I’m not going to worry about this for now because there is a little girl with leukemia out there who got married before I did. And that is a far more important issue to stress out about.

In other news, Val doesn’t work at work either and so she
urbanddictionaried her name and mine, too. I will leave you with the one she thought was most fitting for me.

Diana: Completely strung out on caffiene so that words are unintelligible and rodent-like, muscle spasms are frequent, and random fascinations dominate speech and action, e.g. shiny objects, scarves, capes, and magic tricks.

It must be true because J-Me thought I was on coke the first time she met me…and I wasn’t! I was like like, dude, that’s such a low opinion of me. I’d never do blow at 4PM on a Sunday. Give a chick some credit.