Lady Luck continues to beam her beautiful smile directly away from me. She doth giveth with one hand and flippeth-off with the middle finger of the other. Somebody once commented that nothing is funnier than somebody else’s misfortunes . . . oh right, it was me, in that last sentence. So, let me see if I can entertain you folks further with my latest batch of bad times and good people. If artists are meant to suffer for their art then somebody had best nominate me for sainthood.

Friday/Saturday: Last week I pre-worked extra time every day so I could leave early on the Friday to go to a women’s clinic for a federally-funded annual check-up. I arrived at the clinic spot-on time [which is a rarity for me], walked boldly straight up to the receptionist, gave her my name and appointment time, and with no hesitation whatsoever she informed me that I did not have an appointment, I was not in their computer system, and they did not even have a doctor there that day. I am sure the mistake was mine since I only made the appointment three weeks ahead of time, confirmed it twice, spoke to the same calendering person three times in one day, made notes about our conversation, and marked the appointment on two separate calendars . . . . That very same morning, I ran out of insulin for my diabetic kat. I had been trying to suction every last droplet from the vial so that it would last until that Saturday because I was taking another of the kats to the V.E.T. [Very.Expensive.Technician.] and my V.E.T. is about fifteen miles away. Since the women’s clinic was only a couple of miles from the V.E.T., I drove straight over there, boldly walked straight up to the counter, and was immediately informed that . . . the V.E.T. was not there. After approximately the right amount of whining and begging, the wonderful technician called the V.E.T. and received permission to dispense the insulin to me. THAT folks is *why* I drive so far. I adore my sweet, handsome, kind, caring V.E.T.

Sunday: Mr. Buzzy XVII passed away moments after assisting me to completion of my arrival. Due to Texas laws, the grown-up toy stores are closed on Sundays.

Monday: I received an email via my website from a mysterious stranger asking me if I was “Amber”. I replied that I was not. My new friend then informed me that an individual named “Amber” had hijacked a selection of my photos, posted them on her AIM profile, and was claiming she was the model. She even used some of my birthday photos!!!! Have you ever felt your skin crawl coldly around on your bones while at the same time your blood is positively boiling? If not, I suggest you never try it some time. At the speed of somebody really pissed-off who can type really fast, I shot a complaint to AOL. They take reports of stolen copyrighted photographs quite seriously I can tell you. So seriously, in fact, that they demanded that I send them a scan of my driver’s license by unencrypted email. Oh well, my identity had already been stolen anyway. I will give AOL credit for removing all but one of the photos right away . . . apparently, they need further proof of the main photo, so I took a snapshot this morning of the torn jeans, the Glock, AND my driver’s license and sent that to them. Standing by . . . In the meantime, I am going to have my adorable web host install a right-click disable code just as soon as I can pester him into putting his life on hold to handle my pissant problem. Nothing beats bolting the stable door after the horse has already run-off with the gay cowboy.

Wednesday: I was on my way to work when my beloved car, Zippy, decided to take a nap at a traffic light. Her engine was still happily purring, and yes, I was in gear [glare], but she simply would not rev her sweet motor nor move her sweet arse more than a couple of inches. I instantly hit my hazard lights and the guy behind me, who could not possibly have missed the pretty flashing orange lights, immediately hit his horn. Dahling, I am really sorry that nature dissed you in the phallic department, but it was not MY fault, so please save your overcompensating for somebody else! Stupid prick. Fortunately, I was able to coax Zippy into the car park of a large pharmacy where I only had to call my roadside assistance robots three times because the cell reception was wonky. That led to a mere hour-long wait for a tow truck, a few interesting chats with the various homeless people who shuffled up to my window, the tow truck driver getting lost on the way to the garage because he had not looked-up directions beforehand, and my eventual arrival at the garage. I adore my sweet, handsome, caring, kind mechanic. So much so, that I have stalked him from his last place of employment to his current one. By an accidental stroke of good luck, he is also the Manager at the garage, and not just a grease-artiste. Not only did he have Zippy diagnosed within minutes [it was the throttle cover if anybody cares], he also waived the diagnosis charge, called twenty different places to make sure that I had extended warranty coverage, arranged for me to get a free loaner car, had me chauffeured to the rental-car office, AND offered me a free soda or bottle of water!! He also happens to be one of my devoted readers. Hi Vince!!

Have you ever stopped to consider just how ironic it is that some of your absolute most favourite people are also the very same people whom you really do not want to have to see?

This entry was posted on Thursday, August 23rd, 2007 at 2:34 pm and is filed under Humour. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.