It's true . All my electronics are possessed by demons. My computer crashed which is alright because my e-mail is messed up anyway and my web site looks like it did a triple flip into an empty swimming pool. Then, the little batteries in my remote control went dead as well as that big one in my truck. On the way to get a new one, I had a flat so I put on that worthless little doughnut of a tire but the difference in size caused the car to lean just enough to set off every alarm in the universe. I was weaving through traffic sounding like a soviet sub with a radiation leak.
On the way, I got pulled over by the police. Probably because I was setting off earthquake alarms in Oregon. The officer asked, "Do you know why I pulled you over?"
I said, "Well, seeing as how you're the one with the lights and siren, I just assumed you had some idea. But, you do look a lot like a girl I used to date. How old is your mother?"
They let me out of jail after I paid the fine so I walked over to get my car out of impound and paid an extra 30 dollars to get it jumped off. Then, I whistled, bonged and whooped my way to the dealership where I coughed up another 400 bucks.
If I wanted that kind of abuse, I'd still be dating Ingrid. She had Multiple Personality Disorder so naturally, I found levels of suffering I never knew existed. She also had a pet - Skippy the Wonder Leech. He must have loved me a lot because he would hang on...and hang on... and hang on. He never wanted me to leave. I couldn't say the same about Ingrid though. Or Sarah. Or Cheryl. Or Connie and Denise. And some broad named Bruce. But at least it wasn't boring. I was dating a different chick every Saturday.
As I was leaving the wallet-sucking sump pump they call a dealership, I entered an address in my GPS. The soothing female voice said, "In .2 miles, turn right followed by a gradual left. And quit slouching. You look like a chimp! And did you comb your hair with a rake?! On second thought, you turn this truck around right now and go back home. You shouldn't be seen in public until you scrape that stubble off your face and put on some decent clothes. You look like a hobo! And while you're at it, kill the neighbor's cat. He taunts me."
For more, go to my site, diggerdan.nice-kitty. Double click on the floating image of Sigmund Freud and you could win a fun-filled weekend with the voices in my head.
"Kill Aunt Sally."
"Shut up!"
My psychiatrist says he hasn't seen a head like mine since last year's cantaloupe festival. I don't understand.
www.lifeinthedweeblane.com
