Friday, April 16, 2004

A high five for my 1040.

Your favorite relatives are the ones who give you the most cash when it comes gift time.

God, I love Uncle Sam.

Uncle Mike (also known as Michigan to those who do not assign uncle names to your states) was not quite as generous, but his return of $32 will not be ungratefully recieved.

On the other hand, Illinois, whom from now on I refuse to call an uncle, had the balls to tell me that I owed it $1.94. One dollar and ninety-four cents! What the hell is the state of Illinois going to do with one dollar and ninety-four cents? Buy itself a Starbucks Mocha Frappuccino or something?

So after all the math, it turns out that I’m getting $168.10 from the governments, which is a good thing considering what I got in the mail the other day.

And that’s not even the same $49.35 Cyborg Superman I mentioned a week ago. This is the original non-Terminator Superman, and it set me back $49.29. Tack onto that the four-figure Return of Superman set I just pre-ordered and the Doomsday figure whose purchase set me off on the Superman action figure binge in the first place, and my grand total comes to $165.64.

That leaves me with $2.46.

Perhaps I can buy myself a Starbucks Mocha Frappuccino.

Tuesday, April 6, 2004

Slave to my Master Card.

I just spent $49.35 on six inches of plastic.

That’s $8.23 an inch.

Why my parents ever wanted me to get a credit card, I’ll never know.

Monday, April 5, 2004

Despair of facial hair.

For the past nine days, I’ve been attempting to grow a goatee.

And I emphasize the word “attempting.”

The problem with this thing is that it has no density at all. It’s so damned patchy. My only chance at growing anything resembling an acceptable crop of facial hair is to grow it out long enough to cover up all the hairless areas.

And that’s the equivalent of an upper-lip comb-over.

I have to admit, the bastard doesn’t seem as hideous from five feet away, but get any closer and you’ll see that it looks more like a sparse growth of cactus needles around my mouth than facial hair.

I don’t know many girls who have much of a desire to make out with pointy plant life.

Whenever I look in the mirror, I’m so disgusted. It makes me want to vomit and punch myself in the face at the same time. It makes me wonder, if I find the thing this revolting, just how nauseated do other people get when they look at me?

I’m shunned enough as it is.

I would have shaved it off long ago if not for my hopes of it somehow filling in. As of now, all hope is gone. There is no chance of recovery. It has suffered enough. I’m going to have to put my goatee out of its misery.

Hopefully, that’ll lessen my own misery.