Happy Monday! OK, fine, there’s nothing overly happy about a Monday, I know. Sorry. Happy…um…
Oh, shit, check this out. It is RECONCILIATION DAY.
You thought I was KIDDING! Nope.
Apparently, April 2 is the day Ann Landers set aside in 1989 to:
…patch relationships and to make amends. Its intention is to re-establish relationships between family, friends and couples. Life is too short to hold a grudge between those we love.
Estranged couples may find today to be an opportunity to work out their problems. People who have had a “falling out” with family members are encouraged to reach out and “mend the fence”.
For those considering a reconciliation, the old saying is “It’s never too late”. But, that is not true. Someday, it could be too late. So, please use today to begin your reconciliation.
Ugh. This is way crunchy-granola-touchy-feely, right?
Dear Ann Landers, even though I’m pretty sure you’re dead. Sometimes, the people you’ve had a falling-out with are BEST LEFT FALLEN OUT WITH. Your life is SO MUCH BETTER without those people in it. Sometimes, they try to contact you? And your whole stomach hurts because you wish they would just disappear or maybe move to Zimbabwe where there is no internet. (I don’t know if there’s internet in Zimbabwe. I just like the way that country sounds. ZIMBABWE.) I don’t want a Reconciliation Day. I want a National Leave Me the Hell Alone, I Made the Right Decision the First Time When I Kicked You to the Curb Day. Let’s do that, OK?
In happier news, today is also National Peanut Butter and Jelly Day. THIS IS A HOLIDAY I CAN GET BEHIND. I’m totally eating PB&J daily lately. It’s like a smile in my lunch bag waiting for me at breaktime.
It’s also International Children’s Book Day and the birthday of Hans Christian Andersen, so if you have a kiddo, you should read them The Little Mermaid, or The Ugly Duckling, or something equally moody and Danish.
OK, so celebrate one of these things. That’d be nice. Do that. Or just go to work and drudge drudge drudge, if you must. But I can guarantee you it wouldn’t be as much fun as eating PB&J while reading The Little Mermaid. (Screw the reconciliation garbage, those people can go shit in a hat.)
In other news: three people won the gigantic Mega Millions recently which was up to $640 million dollars. Those people lived in Kentucky, Illinois, and Maryland. As you can see, none of those people live in New York. This made EVERYONE I KNOW VERY CRESTFALLEN. I think that’s humorous, because most of those people? Seemed to think they had a chance of winning. One of my more practical coworkers told me you had a better chance of getting hit by lightning 200 times than winning that lottery drawing. I had a better chance of waking up switched into Dumbcat’s body, as I didn’t play. I feel like playing the lottery is like putting your money to the crack in your car window as you’re driving 90 down the highway. (I mean, WHO DRIVES 90 DOWN THE HIGHWAY SURELY NOT ME.) I think you have a similar chance of payback on your investment with both forms of “spending” your money. I like my money to go toward things that I can touch. Like cheese. And pudding. And cat food. And laptops.
Anyway, I have friends who live in Maryland. So I’m fairly sure they’re the winners of the Mega Millions, only they’re keeping it on the downlow because they’ve posted on Facebook since the drawing and made no mention of it. R. & A., since you are now the winners of the Mega Millions, please feel free to donate to my trip to Europe. I will send your soon-t0-be-born daughter and my unofficial niece MANY EUROPEAN SOUVENIRS. Also, instead of me taking the Amtrak to see you this summer, maybe you could drive me there in a stretch Hummer. I always wondered what kind of assholes rode in those. I WOULD LIKE TO BE ONE OF THOSE KIND OF ASSHOLES, R. AND A.
This is totally not a post with a point. Listen, the sooner I get this shit written, the sooner I can get out of these sleepy pajamas, put on some clothes, and go laptop shopping. CUT ME SOME SLACK JACK.
Oh, two new people I know in REALLY REAL LIFE are reading the blog. Let’s say hi to N., who is a wonderful website designer and actor and human being and about to become a dad, I just found out! HI N.! And also K.! Listen, K. reading this makes me super-smiley-happy. K. and I used to work together at the animal shelter, many moons ago. She was my favorite coworker. Here is a story. I feel like I told you all this once before but my search tab isn’t being helpful. Well, if you heard this before, you can stop me. Oh, wait, you can’t. Oh, well, skip over it or whatever. Or don’t, it’s really funny.
K. was in charge of accounts payable and receivable and I was in charge of the reception area at the humane society. So we were the two working at the front most of the time, and the other people were in the back with the animals. So when things were slow, we’d chat.
One day, she was all, “Amy?” and I came in, and she said, “Look at this pile of applications the boss gave me,” and we were hiring, and there was a pile, and I said, “OK,” and she said, “now read the response to ‘have you ever been charged with a felony’ on this one.”
Some guy had written “Yes, I killed my best friend and was arrested for it. I’M SO SO SORRY.”
K. and I just looked at each other and tried to have serious faces for about fourteen seconds but then we just busted out laughing until we were CRYING and SNOTTY because WHO WRITES SOMETHING LIKE THAT. I mean, maybe it was a drunk driving incident, or something like that. Fine. Things happen. But why did he PHRASE it like that? You don’t PHRASE it like that. You write “Yes, 2010, vehicular manslaughter, please inquire for details” or something equally professional. “I’M SO SO SORRY?” Oh, so awful. So sad and awful.
So we laughed until we cried, and then for WEEKS we were all, “I’m SO SO SORRY” to each other and that’s all it took to set us off into giggle fits. It bears note that K. and I were not children. I was in my mid-twenties and K. was – hell, I’m awful with ages. Mid-forties? GIGGLE FITS. Like TEENAGERS.
We knew it wasn’t funny. Which is why it was funny.
K. and I still write letters to each other. With PEN! And PAPER! And I told her about the blog, and she wrote that she’s reading it! And I said, hey, someday I’ll say hi to you, K.! So, hi, K.! I miss working with you every day. You will always be one of the best people I’ve ever worked with in the history of ever. You always got my insane humor, and could calm me down when I was stompy. Also, you loved animals as much as I did, and were totally there the day I found Dumbcat for the first time. I MISS YOU, K.!
Two more things, then I’m hitting the hay. OK, there’s no real hay. It’s METAPHOR hay.
I GOT THE LAPTOP!
Please interject happy cheers and whoo-hoos and clapping and such…NOW.
It is just about the cheapest one they had at Best Buy (which is totally the Buy More from Chuck, bee tee dubs. I’ve totally never been in a Best Buy before. I know, it’s like I’m not even Merkan. But most of the Geek Squad looked a LOT more like Jeffster than like Chuck. That was a major letdown.)
BUT I am ASSURED it will do what I need it to, which is a., word process (ALSO, was anyone aware that buying Microsoft Word was A HUNDRED EFFING DOLLARS? I wasn’t buying CRACK COCAINE for the love of Pete. I was buying WORD PROCESSING SOFTWARE!), b., get on the interwebs so I can blog, and c., have a webcam so I can FINALLY use Skype like a normal human being.
I don’t have wireless for it until Tuesday or Wednesday, so until then, it’s a very pretty gunmetal gray box that makes pretty musical notes when I boot it up? But NEW LAPTOP! That cost AS MUCH AS MY RENT!
I’ve never bought anything that cost as much as my rent all at once in my life. That total almost made me have an aneurysm, and also on the way to my car I was sure I was going to be mugged by hoodlums. Possibly those teen hoodlums at the mall I keep hearing about.
THEN, when I got HOME, my parents had the following story for me:
Mom: You are never going to guess what is HAPPENING here.
Me: No. Probably not.
Mom: A BIRD is smashing over and over into our WINDOW.
Me: What? Why?
Mom: We don’t know. We think it’s deranged.
Me: Explain, please.
Mom: There is a robin with a VERY SHIFTY LOOK IN ITS EYE and it sits in the tree. Then it flies to the window. Then it flies up, and BASHES into the window. It’s been doing it every 2-3 minutes for five hours.
Me: What? Why isn’t it dead?
Mom: We don’t know. Your father went outside to shoo it away but it ignored him.
Me: Oh, I bet he didn’t like that.
Mom: No. He wants to open the window, let it in the house, then it will get disoriented. Then he will open the back door and fly out there and get lost so it can’t find the front window again.
(Then I heard in the background my dad saying “YOU ARE TELLING HER ALL THE GOOD STUFF GIVE ME THE PHONE!”)
Dad: That dumb bird. I want to shoot it.
Me: No. You can’t shoot a robin. You’d kill spring. That’s like a sign of spring.
Dad: Good. At least then I wouldn’t have to hear that thing smacking into my window every few minutes. Can you even believe it ignored me?
Me: That’s very insubordinate of it, yes.
Dad: Also, it keeps rubbing up against the siding, so it has white stuff all over its feathers. Then it runs into the window. Now the window is all smeared with white stuff.
Me: Maybe it’s poo.
Dad: It’s not POO. There’s no POO on the window.
Me: I don’t know. I’m not there.
Dad: I’m going to put you on speaker so you can hear this.
Me: I trust you. I don’t have to hear a kamikaze bird.
Dad: ARE YOU ON SPEAKER NOW?
Me: I don’t know, I’m not THERE. Am I?
Me: OK. Then I’m not. Did you hit the speaker button?
Dad: THERE IT GOES AGAIN YOU MISSED IT.
Me: Sorry. Guess it’s because I wasn’t on speaker.
Dad: ARE YOU ON SPEAKER NOW?
Me: I don’t KNOW, Dad. Am I on speaker now?
Dad: Yes. Shh. Listen.
(We then had five minutes of him saying “shh…shhh…DID YOU HEAR THAT?” over and over. I heard NOTHING.)
Dad: You’re just pretending you don’t hear that.
Me: Why would I do that? That seems like a mean prank to pull.
Dad: It IS April Fools’ Day.
Me: I assure you, if I wanted to be a douchebag I could do better than that.
Dad: Yeah, probably. Why do you think this bird is doing this? I think it’s someone’s pet that’s escaped and it was tested on by the government.
Me: That seems unlikely.
Dad: Oh, you don’t know the half of it.
Me: Hey, this is like that movie The Birds. Only it’s an indie version. On a low budget. It’s The Bird. It’s not very scary and no one would go to see it.
SIDE NOTE: Dad called me up at 8pm, so about four hours later, and told me, in a VERY CONSPIRATORIAL WHISPER (I assume as to not WAKE the bird) that it had stopped the window-bashing. When I asked where the bird was, he said, “It’s in the tree, asleep. I’m keeping an eye on it.”
I’ll keep you updated with the saga of the bird. This is very exciting. I think it might have been sent by Helper Mule, honestly. Or it’s a sign of the apocalypse. Either way.