Thursday, May 13, 2004

brought to you by the letter F

This one time, I fell out of bed.

This would be no big deal, if it hadn't happened when I was 20 years old. I told my friend about it and she laughed at my expense in return, and then asked me why I would ever share something so embarassing.

The question rocked my entire concept of the universe! Why share something so embarassing about myself with the world? But then I remembered that I am hideously self-conscious as well as slightly paranoid and the only way to effectively deal with it is to allow people to laugh at me, but only at my instigation. Plus, you make more friends being self-depricating then you do staying at home all the time, worried about Ashton Kutcher showing up the minute you go outside, even though you are aware that you are not a movie star.

So, this morning, at 7 AM, my alarm went off. I hit the snooze and snooze and snooze until I finally rolled out of bed at 9:30. I washed my face, drank some coffee, said hi to Fatso Catso and was out the door in time to catch the 10:30 bus. I made it to my doctor's office with a good 10 minutes to spare, which is awesome because I really enjoy waiting in the lobby before I go in and wait 20 minutes in that paper gown for the doctor who certainly yelled at ME for being late the last time, but makes no excuses for himself.

And I said to the receptionist, "Hi, I have an 11:30 appointment with Dr. So-and-So."
And she said, "Dr. So-and-So in only in on Fridays."
And I said, "Holy shit!" because I just realized today is THURSDAY and I am a total FUCKTARD.