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Is It Fricking Tomorrow Yet?

Folks, I’m just here to apologize. And I apologize for that. For which I’m very sorry. And my condolences for being sorry. And I apologize for —

Oh, enough of this crap already!

(Sorry, sorry. That was uncalled for. I apologize. For the last time. Or just for now. Whatever.)

Anyway, as I hope that little ‘effort’ clearly shows, I’ve had a rough day, kiddies. I don’t want to bore you with the lowlights… but then again, I don’t want a lot of things. Sometimes life doesn’t go the way we’d like it to, you know? So here are a few tidbits from my past twenty-four hours:

Sometime after midnight (so technically today, but still feeling like yesterday), I lost my right contact lens as I was getting rready for bed. The water was running, and our drain stopper doesn’t work, and I’m pretty sure it was just whooshed right on down the sink. Maybe one of the feral gators that live in the sewers can use it; I don’t know.

What I do know, though, is that I’m essentially blind without my contacts. So, I looked for that backup set of contacts that I never ordered after getting my new prescription a couple of months ago. Mysteriously, they weren’t there! (Spooky, no?)

So, I checked all my old contact cases, and found exactly one contact, an ill-fitting, uncomfortable, out-of-date left lens in the back of the medicine cabinet. But what the hell — any old piece of plastic in your eye in a pnch, right? And a crappy contact is better than no contact, at least when you have my dysfunctional eyeballs, so I soaked the thing in saline overnight and went to bed.

Next came morning. (As it so often does after nighttime. These are real gems, people — pay attention here.) I had an early meeting this morning, so I’d set the alarm for about two hours before I’d normally get up. And so, of course, despite way too few hours of sleep and general exhausted crankiness, I woke up. Twenty minutes before the alarm was set to go off. Bitches!

Twenty minutes is the absolute worst amount of time you can have left in bed. A half-hour would be fine — you can get some real sleeping done in a half a damned hour. Two minutes is fine — hey, you beat the alarm, and didn’t have to listen to it blaring on and on before pulling your sorry sheet-wrinkled ass out of bed. Bully for you. But twenty minutes? That’s a friggin’ nightmare! All you can do is lie there, not sleeping because you know the alarm’s gonna go off as soon as you do, and not getting up because… well, dammit, because you have twenty whole minutes of bed-time left, and you’ll be damned if you’re giving that up without a fight, a court order, and a cadre of fucking Clydesdales to drag you away from it. This is America, people. The right to sleep is, like, the Ninth Amendment or something. You can look it up.

Anyway, here’s a summary of the twenty minutes I spent in bed this morning, circa seven in the fricking a.m.:

‘Hurnngh? Wha? Oh. I’m awake. Shit, it’s light outside. Is it time to get up yet?

What? Do I want some of that? Well, you bet your sweet perky ass I do! Here I co —‘

*BRRREEEH!* *BRRREEEH!* *BRRREEEH!* *BRRREEEH!* *BRRREEEH!* *BRRREEEH!*

‘Damn. There’s that fucking alarm. I officially hate my life. Bleh.‘

And frankly, folks, that should have clued me in right there.I should have smashed the clock on the floor, Riverdanced on the damned thing for a while, pissed on the remnants, and crawled back into bed. Because it was all downhill from there.

I’ve taken up enough of your time already, so I’ll just whiz past the milestones I saw today — I paid three hundred dollars plus to get my dryer fixed, performed in a comedy show with an audience of two people (no shit, and here’s the kicker — the two were never in the room at the same time!), had my replacement contact pop out en route to the show and never go back in properly, meaning I had to drive one-eyed and half-blind for twenty miles each way, and then, to top it all off, decided to fight through the crowd situation (or lack thereof) at the show and deliver my jokes as best I could… and my videotape ran out mid-set.

There may be something there to salvage and show you tomorrow — I’m not really sure. I’m too tired and too blind to check it out now. (Though I do want to give mad props to our lone audience member at the time, Eric, who held the camera for me; you’re a good sport, Eric — the best one-man audience a motley group of comics could hope for.)

Anyway, enough of this pissy nonsense. While I’ve been bitching and ranting, it actually has become tomorrow, so hopefully my luck’s about to change. I’m off to bed now — after backdating this post first, naturally — and I’m sleeping as long as I goddamned please tomorrow, meetings and alarm clocks and tapioca-soaked Hollywood hellcats be damned. That oughta put me in better spirits. And I’ll get a replacement lens and be good as new before you know it. But for now, I’m calling it a night. Febrary fourth was no friend to me; here’s hoping my fifth — and yours — is one helluva lot better. Goodnight, and sleep tight, folks!