Not In Kansas Anymore...

Click your heels, and see if home is where you hang your hat, or somewhere else inside yourself as this simple, postmodern girl takes on L.A.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Okay, this week is OVER, people. Didja hear me? OVER. No more. I'm done. If anything else goes wrong I'm going to fucking snap. Don't call me and ask for anything, either, because I got nothing. I'm not feeling very nice, or like chatting or shooting the shit. Unless you are calling to offer me money for nothing or to take me out to a nice a dinner and listen to me bitch, then forget it. Leave me alone.

I finally got my meds. I took them last night. My body, in response to not having had them all fucking week, collapsed into an unbelievably deep slumber. I woke up at 8pm (!) after having gone to bed at 2am and I didn't know what day it was today. It was Wednsday in my mind, but GUESS WHAT? IT's NOT. Which means I missed an appointment with Therapist J. Which of course she had to charge for. Now I owe her money on TOP of money and in this case, not for services but for missed services. On top of it, I had to explain that completely idiot story to her, which thankfully, she believed, but could I blame her if she didn't? No, I could not.

I looked at my bank account, and it is woeful. I still owe money on my liscence plates and I am about $150 short of being able to take care of that. Did I ever tell you that if they pull you over on expired plates in CA they impound your car? Yes, they do. Mandatory 30 days, which means it doesn't matter if you can go there and pay them immediately, they're keeping your car for a month. Oh, and they charge you $50 a day for the privilige. No, I'm not kidding and yes, it sounds like extortion, but that's what they do.

I had enough money to take care of it at the beginning of the month. I don't anymore. Why? Well, life. Groceries. Gas. Keeping the power on. You know, really high-roller stuff. Even the money I spent on bills did not cover them all, BTW. I'm behind on three of them. And my gas tank is rapidly approaching "E" again.

Anyway, I already got a ticket which some gracious officer gave me instead of taking my car. That was a gift from God, right there. But it also means I have to pay the ticket, too, and if they stop me again, the car goes. Ask me how I'm going to pay for ANYTHING once the car goes. Answer: no car, no job.

Not that that matters, because every job I've applied for the last two weeks has resulted in NOTHING. No calls. Nothing. So, I figured I'd go ahead and apply for a job at The Huntington Museum, Et Al , even though it's way the fuck out of my Will-The-Money-I-Spend-On-Gas-Eat-My-Whole-Paycheck? range. I figure, well, maybe I can take the bus/train. I want to work there ( or at any museum, AT ALL at this point), so what the hell. Nothing closer or better paying knocking my door down, right? Might as well throw my hat into the ring. The job offered is at their bookstore, and who has both bookstore AND museum experience?( Yeah, you know that answer already.)

Except to apply, I have to fill out this stupid pdf. application, which will not allow itself to be properly inserted into Word so one might type on it. You have to download it and print it, and then, I guess, scan it,or fax it, or mail it. WHY they chose to do this is beyond me. Whatever, I make the effort.

It's about now I should explain that my luck with printers is just piss-poor. I have had 4 printers since having a laptop for 4 years, and each of them just up and quit working of their own will. I don't know if I'm making them suicidal, but the printer I have now was fairly costly, and needless to say, I'm not happy. It's a WiFi printer, and about 3 months ago, it decided to no longer recognize its connection to the laptop. Ron has been over to fix it, and he got it to work for a week. Now it stopped working. I talked to R this week, and we came up with the brilliant idea that I'd just load my documents onto a memory card and stick it in the printer's slot for such things, and print from that. Guess what? The printer asked me to pick a computer to associate with the stupid memory card. Why? I don't know. At any rate, you can guess what happened next.

It's really fortunate that I can't afford another ticket from the fine folks of Los Angeles County, because I've got lighter fluid. I got a concrete porch. I got matches. What I don't got is any more patience for expensive technology that won't cooperate.

Oh, and you know what fun I get to go do tomorrow? I get to go to the podiatrist. Foot doctor. Never thought I'd see the day I'd need to go to a flippin' foot doctor, but I guess old age is a bitch. I don't mean to overshare, but let's just say me and several toenails have painfully parted ways for reasons unbeknownst to me ( no injury involved). I was going to just ignore it, and see if thngs would heal, but, in the oh-so-wise-words of Brother, "You need to see a doctor and ask him if you're living on a toxic waste dump, 'cause that's just gross." ( I told Brother "No, I'm probably turning into a Prawn. Just don't expect me at Christmas, and tell Mom and Dad I love them."). I further consented to the idea since I'm about to lose one on my big toe, which is something I'd like to NOT wait-and-see on. Nonetheless, I have a feeling once the doctor sees it, he's going to want to speed up that seperation process himself. I'm SO looking forward to either a.) getting a shot in my toe to numb that procedure, or b.) skipping the shot altogether since it might hurt as much.

At least my hair looks good these days....