Monday, September 25, 2006

Ridin’ Along with Mr. Murphy

Stephen Colbert on a Study That Said Housewives Should Get Salaries: “This devalues husbands. I’m not asking that we get paid for all the things we do: mechanic, exterminator, trash toter, couch softener, and remote master. And, hey, what about our stud fee? You cannot put a price on quality DNA.”

So, things seemed to be humming along pretty good. I was getting a load of hours at work (too much for my sanity but not enough for my wallet) and we are about to get into that critical time where we have four birthdays in the space of four weeks. This is usually at this time that I take a second job and regular trips to the blood & sperm bank to pay for all the presents. We had all the money we needed saved back for Christmas and I was actually close to being one paycheck ahead. Things were looking good.

Mur·phy's Law n. Any of certain humorous axioms stating that anything that can possibly go wrong, will go wrong.

Yep. Had to put the Jeep in the shop. New water pump. New battery. Suddenly I’m out 400 clams. Savings wiped out. Why does this happen? WHY? You get a little bit ahead and the Grim Reaper shows up slashing his scythe, laughing at you.
In theory, it could have been a lot worse. It could have been $800 or I could not have had the money at all. See that quote up above about not being able to put a price on quality DNA? Well, I hope that applies. I’ve got a little mess on my hands so I’m off to the “bank” to make a little donation in hopes that it will pay for my car. Wow. That came out all wrong.
Screw the pride, I need money.
And if you think the human body only holds about 8 pints of blood, remember the words of the immortal sage Al Bundy after giving his ninth pint of blood. “Well, the brain hides some.” [Takes another drink of beer.] “Don’t need blood. Just gotta keep the brain wet.”
So I’m off for a rub and tug and a date with a needle. I just hope I don't get the two mixed up. Wish me luck.

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