Travel Pro Tips for the ladies. Take the batteries out of anything important, before you close the suitcase. #TheMoreYouKnow
Here’s a fun fact about being a self-employed whatever the hell I am. To get business, you have to publish your contact info. You publish your contact info and people call you. Some of the people that are inclined to call you are batshit crazy.
It’s not always obvious.
Karma: Sometimes, it is.
Like when some guy starts talking like he knows you. And spends an hour on the phone. And tells you about Uncle Ronnie’s house near San Diego. And about the per acre cost of a subdivided lot. And international conspiracies involving the noted gangster he wants you to sue…
And, by the way, he does not have a job, or other income. He’s going on Medicaid. But (I swear, man!)he’s got legal funding companies lined up to pay whatever it costs.
FWIW, in a related matter, he’s been determined to be incompetent to stand trial.
I wake up on the floor. Not hungover, but buck naked like whiskey was in my recent past. And I am in suburban Detroit. I don’t remember being on a flight. There is someone’s pink robe, but it doesn’t cover everything. There is also a blanket for a makeshift kilt. That will make the apology for why I am there…
On stuffed jalapenos: To put it as delicately as possible, it’s like being kicked in the balls all night long, and then giving birth to a napalm and glass shard covered exploding plutonium cactus. (But it seemed like a good idea at the time.)
FYI, your mailman is watching you. Tracking who gets mail at your house. Maybe even logging the cars in your driveway.
I’m guessing he’d report on what he could see through the windows, if by chance it was noteworthy.
Somewhere in a cubicle, this information gets processed and dispersed. I know this, because the county assessor has “reason to believe” I don’t reside in my own home and wants to increase my taxes. That’s been cleared up, but what the fuck? Where is Charlie, the mailman when I was a kid. The guy who would stop and chat, and take a glass of lemonade in the summer. What happened to that guy?