Not that I’m Complaining


As you well know, I’m not the kind of guy to complain, but what the hell is wrong with the world today? Everything’s going plain crazy. I get home from work last night, and my laptop’s not working. I press the “on” button − nothing happens. I unplug and plug it in again several thousand times: nothing. I pick it up − and roughly a quart of water comes pouring out of the bottom of the machine.

“Well, that can’t be good,” I mutter.

And I’m right. I wring the thing out, prop it up in front of a heater, run it through the dryer a few times, nothing. So now I’ve got no laptop at home.  Bummer. I’m gonna try replacing the power source and battery to see if that fixes it, but we all know it’s not gonna work. I’m just boned.

A young and shockingly hot Jamie Lee Curtis (before she destroyed her colon through high living).

So in the meantime I bring my work laptop home. It’s brand new – I got it last week, along with a brand-new job – and it seems to be working fine. It’s really powerful. But get this. It’s a Thinkpad, which means that it’s got a little nipple/pencil-eraser piece of shit mouse nubbins in the center of the keyboard, which I frickin’ hit every time I go for the letter “b”. And that totally disrupts my mighty flow of concentration, which is why this column is about as funny as a colon-cleansing yoghurt commercial starring an aging actress you used to lust after.

Yeesh.

And not only that, but Lindsay Lohan’s out of prison already! She was in for like three days. What’s up with that? Now which successful, rich, beautiful person am I supposed to feel superior to? (There’s something really comforting about seeing a famous person self-destructing, isn’t there? Mark Sanford kept me cheerful for weeks.)

On the other hand, I totally installed the two triangular shutters on the chicken coop this week without mashing my thumb or driving a three-inch deck screw into my privates, so that’s a plus. Now all that’s left is to make the sliding chicken door and construct the laying boxes, two-three days max. And it’s almost time to order the chicks! Won’t that be a hoot? 

You know what? My new job doesn’t hardly suck at all. Maybe things are turning around.

Come to think of it, my colon is pretty clean, too. And I’ll always have Mel Gibson. Gosh, I guess it really is a wonderful life!

This actor will self-destruct in five seconds.

All right, this is the second time I’ve used the tag line from It’s a Wonderful Life in this blog. Sue me. I totally could have ended this blog on the colon joke, and trust me, none of us want that.

Look! Zuzu’s petals!

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