Anonymouse, Episode Thirteen

I don't know about that.
London to Paris?
Yeah, that makes sense.
Well, London to Paris
is a lot different than
Here to Paris.

Ever Have Those Weeks

where everything goes wrong and you don't get any sleep and your car, your poor damned driven car dies while you are moving into your new apartment and your new apartment isn't new and doesn't have water and your relatively new queen-sized bed that you love and spent good money on not more than a year ago won't fit up the stairs and so you have to sleep on a futon provided by your landlady and you step in a puddle in the middle of the night because the water that isn't coming out of the faucet is apparently coming out of the pipe below the faucet and your car is dead and the strange greasy man that was recommended says, This is what's wrong and when we fix that we have to fix this and this and that and while we're in there we really recommend doing this too and that'll be fourteen hundred dollars please?

I told the strange man that he had plenty of grease so it shouldn't be a problem getting enough lubrication to stick that estimate up his dirty coverall covered ass.

I fixed it myself, with the help of a genius mechanic friend who is currently laid off. It took me a week.

After I fixed my car I went on a first date. This is the third first date that I've had in two years.

The first first date was a disaster, because I didn't realize that it was a date.

The second first date was a disaster just because.

They say that the third time is the charm. There may be truth to it. My third first date lasted forty-eight hours.

That has to be some kind of record.