october 29

To: New Poem
Re: What's the hold-up
Cc: Underwear dance
GET OUT ALREADY! No more random fragments running through my sleep-hungry mind like deranged, caffeine-riddled chihuahuas (chihuahuae?). Fucking SERIOUSLY.

To: Photoshop CS
Re: Getting jiggy wit it
I know you need me to tell you where to save (despite my clearly remembering having included that command in the batch-process droplet but WHATEVER), but when your icon is bobbing in the dock like a Mexican jumping bean with Parkinson's, I really can't click it. God, if I wanted something that required constant attention but never worked, I'd get a boyfriend or something. Na na, na na na na na.

To: Non-Mac- or graphic-design- people
Re: The previous memo
Sorry.

To: 2000 Ford Taurus LE
Re: Grindy grindy
Babygirl, please. Ain't momma just put $987 into y'all? Ain't she take you to the carwash and get you a tree-shaped air freshener dat smell like a fragrant old man all up in yo biz? Ain't she fix yo wack front-driver's-side tire not once but two times? Why you gots to make the clenchy grindy sounds when brakin, ma? Ain't she bought you less than a year ago and had new brakes then? Whatchu WANT, girl? Damn!

To: The 405 freeway between Santa Monica Blvd and Cherry Ave Long Beach
Re: Previous memo
I BLAME YOU.

To: My apartment
Re: It's over
Apartment, we have been through some times together. There was the time when your stupid tan slumlord carpet ripped by the door, and I had to fix it with masking tape because the fucking evil bitch landlady wouldn't fix it. There was the five hundred times the old stupid windows slammed on my hand. There were the four rearrangements as I desperately searched for a way to configure my meager possessions so that I might have room to both live and work, and there were four failures. There's my flagrant disregarding the lease's demand that I not store my bike inside (like I'm gonna really leave it in the alley--sheaw, as if). And now we have all last week, when my bathtub was perpetually filled with between one and six inches of increasingly rusty/stinky water that was coming UP from the drain like some horrible Ghostbusters II nightmare. That was it, really. I'm going somewhere else, and but soon. And if that horrible bitch landlady tries to take my deposit money then there will be some REAL shit hitting the fan, let me tell you.