Saturday, December 18, 2004

Today's Pulitzer-Worthy Thought

Life throws at you what it will, whether you want it or not. Like, sometimes I'll do backflips while braiding my hair and singing "FILL me up! BUTTERCUP, baby!" to get Jim the Baby Nephew to laugh while his mother is trying to feed him. He opens his mouth to express his delight, and then: Liquid green beans. Preparation for every day job you'll ever have, kid.

the peas look even worse at: blondechampagne@hotmail.com

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

Temporary Cash

Today I would like to issue mad props to St. Jude and St. Anthony, patrons of lost causes and finding stuff, respectively, for putting in a good word for me concerning my whole monetary situation, and delivering unto me a last-second temp assignment. I would also like to issue mad un-props to St. Christopher, patron of travellers, who failed to alert me to the bush-obscured presence of the cop who nailed me with the speeding ticket while driving to the assignment.

Are you fully appreciating what it's like to be me now? The fine, combined with the traffic school fee and the state tax and the bribes, has put me in the hole on the week. I don't blame the cop, who, after all, was just doing his job, but while tremblingly presenting my license I made a massive show of pulling it out from behind an enormous picture of Jim The Baby Nephew, murmuring, "I guess the money for the bone marrow transplant just isn't going to be there, son", and he was completely unmoved.

Monday, December 13, 2004

Sigh.

We need to have a talk about this… thing… at the top of the page.

Look, I don’t like it any more than you do. (Okay, maybe a little more than you do, as the entire concept rests upon you giving me money.) But things are becoming squeaky here at the Blonde Bachelorette Pad, Benjamin-wise. No, that’s not even… Things are becoming squeaky, Washington-wise. Recently the Millennium Bellemobile, clearly in the process of auditioning for the part of the car in The Blues Brothers, basically disintegrated into the concrete the last time I slammed the door. Also my COBRA payments have shot right up (“COBRA! When losing your job just isn’t screwage enough.”)

A sudden lack of temp assignments has proven simultaneously hideous and awesome. Awesome, obviously, in (1) the sense that it has provided me with a major opportunity to continue slamming together my first manuscript, allowing my artistic vision for the universe to shine through, and because (2) I didn’t have to work any stupid temp assignments.

Of course, this also means that the last time I was in the grocery I was forced to choose between the ’97 and the ’98 Mondavi Cabernet Sauvignon. The sheer poverty of the moment crushed my soul.

So please, ease my suffering. In exchange, I will admit that I am a dirty, dirty hack who works for you.

send check or money order to: blondechampagne@hotmail.com

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