2003-04-15 - 12:18 a.m.
Bumble.
For the past few weeks I've been having trouble feeling 100% in the world. Time passes and I get 1/2 of my daily agenda done. The future looks bleak. Been kicking out the phlegms for over a week. Even Luna bars can't fix this malaise.
Paid my taxes at the last minute, using the Turbo Tax system. It made me pay the feds $92. That hurt. I just gave the invisible tax Turbo some numbers and it spat back its own. How did the system just know "$92"? I hadn't filled out any questions or anything, other than wages, SS, and a few other lines. $92 is enough to buy a toilet plunger for Donald Rumsfeld's personal Pentagon bathroom. Or a big bag of pretzels for W. and the twins to eat on family TV night in Crawford.
Party Invitation
My friend Jose is having a party. "As a real incentive, I had this wackyzanymadcapscrewball idea that you must to come as a super-hero or heroine, preferably one that no one has heard of," he says.
"Here are some rejected personae you're welcome to use":
The Dirty Bomb
Hazard Light
Magma
Stator
Pink Triangle
Dr Glom
Subtleman
Naked Woman
The Raptor
Chick Magnet
Supply Cabinet
Wotan
Sashimisan
Toilet Snake
Telemarketor
Paisley Fug
Johnny, Human Vacuum
Captain Starfish
Third Tower
Blowfish
Bombardier Buddy
The Karmic Avenger
Speedo Girl
Flounderman
Dr Spin
Echidna Boy
Batchicken
Frank-el
Gilga-mesh
Entropy Gal
Quickie Lad
Coffee Boy
Cyclo-lass
Velcro Vixen
Glutamates
Crocodile Gandhi
Diaper Damsel
Nay Sayer
Klaxxon
Leatherwolf
The Unbelievable Smell
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Things are going to get a lot worse before they get worse. � Lily Tomlin |
