We’re On Cloud Nine!

I have a very short list of things to do before I die. One of them is to go to Japan, and make a haul playing Pachinko. And while I’m there, I’m going to take a whizz in this bathroom. I AM perfeect all today! And smell too!

I had a job interview with WPS Health Insurance earlier this week. At the end of the month I also have an interview at the Department of Agriculture, Trade and Consumer Protection. This will be followed by a test for the position of Madison Police Department Clerk Typist, and a court hearing to legally change my name to Ryan Zeinert. April is a busy month for yours truly, and if I get any of these jobs, you’ll be the first to know. Besides me.

Now, with the onset of unemployment comes the onset of being broke and heavily reliant of those around you. Celia has done a masterful job of making sure we don’t get thrown out of our apartment, and my Mother has been selflessly giving me money that she doesn’t have, to pay bills that she doesn’t owe. It really makes me appreciate the sacrifices people make so their son or husband doesn’t hang himself in the bathroom by the elastic in his boxers. A huge thank you is in order.

Of course, these aren’t the only things that keep me from an early grave. To ward off insanity, I do lots of things around the house. I look at our new blender in the kitchen, and imagine when we’ll have something to blend in it. Just for kicks this morning, I pureed my breakfast, (which consisted of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a bowl of “Life” cereal), and poured it into a tumbler. This turned out to be not so good of an idea. Next time I’ll set it to “liquefy”, so I can drink it with a straw.

I also watch “Cops”. I try to take in at least 2 hours of “Cops” a day, and here’s why. No matter how bad of a day your having, the people on “Cops” constantly are having a worse one. Sure, your kid got sent home from school early because he took a swing at a janitor. Sure, your husband (or wife) doesn’t even have the common courtesy to take the syringe out of his arm before he beats the crap out of you. Big deal. People on “Cops” are the bottom of the genetic barrel. Indeed, we’ve all had things thrown at us by our spouses, but at least it wasn’t televised and replayed for 15 years.

Imagine that. You and your loved one are getting along well, happily married again for the 3rd time, the kids are all moved out, and your just about to settle in for a nice night in front of the television. That’s when you happen to catch the last few minutes of a “Cops” episode from 1991, when you 2 were both arrested for taking your knife fight into the streets. How do you casually turn the channel? You’ve got to say something, right?


“Hey honey, they’re showing us fightin’ with the knives again.”


“Got a little out of hand, didn’t it?”

“Sure did.”

“Things are better now, though.”

“Sure are.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Let’s watch Leno.”


Consider yourself lucky. But getting back to my point, I also watch “Cops” so I don’t end up like that. I always take notes on each episode, and change my life accordingly. Basically, if you keep a handle on the liquor, and try really hard not to knock your wife out, you’ll be fine.

Something else I need to do is exercise. With spring turning into summer, I really should get out more often. I’m gaining weight, have trouble with most stairs, and I’m a spoonfull of mayo away from a full-blown heart attack. It’ll be a sad day when my pacemaker keeps me from microwaves when I’m 23 years old. I think I feel great, but I usually lie to myself.

“Outta’ shape, you say? Well, let me tell ya’ something right now. The Macho Man is tellin’ you to get up offa’ your can, and meet me in the ring this July, at SUMMERSLAM! Ooooooh, yeeeeeaaaaaah!”

You know what, Randy Savage? You’re right! Thank you! That was just the motivation I needed. I’m going to get off this computer, and take control of my well-being!

“Ooooh yeeeaahhh! By the way, do you have 20 bucks that the Macho Man can borrow? He’s a little low on funds right now. Ooooh nooooo!”

Get the hell out of my house, Randy.

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