Karma Police"This is what you'll get when you mess with us . . ."
To fate, destiny, the idiot monkey god who flings dung of misfortune upon my life or whatever higher power exists:
OK, I get it. I apologize for my last entry doubting your power. I mean, when the first song on my Ipod this morning was "The Threat to the Governor of Haurfleur" from the Henry V soundtrack, I said, hmmmmmm. And then The Pixies "Motorway to Roswell" came up ("Last night he could not make it/he tried hard but could not make it/. . .and now we wonder how could this so great turn so shit"), I said, "OK, there's no pattern, just noise." Even when the third song was "Honky's Ladder" by the Afghan Whigs ("Caught you motherfucker where I want you, I got five upon your dime"), yeah, I started sweating.
And the day turned out to be absolutely shit--staff issues, including a staff member lying directly to my face, things getting fucked up on my watch, general work crapola I thought was over. Even then, I stood my own against this onslaught, thinking the whole thing with the Ipod and the crap workday was juuuuuuust coincidence.
What happens when I get home, I get a call from the ex--at least that saved me from punching myself in the heart three times and in the crotch five.
So oh idiot monkey god whom I shall deem George, I get the picture. I shall believe in karma again. I have done my penance. Can you please call off the crotch hammer of frustration now? Pretty please?