Today’s soundtrack: I kept the right ones out, and let the wrong ones in
Today at 12:03am: the shakes came back.


Yesterday I made a $375 mistake. I was defrosting my piece of shit refrigerator with a hammer and screwdriver (don’t ask) and I accidentally punctured the part that holds the fucking freon.

I called Ben, the fix-it guy while my freezer hissed in the background, slowly filling my apartment with CFCs. “Is this something I can fix?” I ask. Not that I have the time or inclination to sit around fixing a freezer. “Is this something that’s fixable?”

“Uh...sorry, dude. You’re gonna have to get a new ‘fridge.”

Fuck.

So I had to send my pineapple and OJ and miscellaneous produce down to Yuka’s to stay for a while. She has a big-ass, nice, late-model, working refrigerator with the anti-frost feature.


MISC. PRODUCE: Why do we have to leave again?

ME: Because your daddy’s a fuck-up and he accidentally ruined the refrigerator with a philips-head screwdriver. Now listen, it will just be for a little while, I’m getting a new one on Tuesday and then you can all come back.

M.P.: I don’t want to leave. I want to go back to my ‘fridge.

ME: Listen to me, you piece of shit cabbage--It’s gone, Gone, GONE. There is no more ‘fridge, no more crisper drawer, no freon, no nothing. It’s gone, like the Taliban.

M.P.: Some people say the Taliban is still--

ME: You be good and listen to your Aunt Yuka, don’t give her any trouble.

M.P.: Fuck you.

ME: What did you say?

M.P.: I said fuck you. I’m produce, a foodstuff. You’re ultimately going to eat me so I have absolutely no incentive to behave myself.

ME: You think that’s bad, being eaten? You should have seen what I used to do to cigarettes. Set them on fire and suck the life right out of them. Keep fucking with me and I’ll give you a demonstration.