The tsunami, y'all.
It's very, very hard to be funny right now. It's hard to figure out what to write about. Because it's hard to bitch and moan about any of the following:
1) Our condo still has no heat. Well LA DEE FRICKING DAH. We still have water and electricity and our $200 sheepskin boots.
The heating guys are coming back today to wage a full-scale war on our pipes and may have to pound holes into our lovely painted walls to find the elusive clog, which is not our fault, but the fault of a half-assed repair job on a water pipe down the street. Poor, poor me, who will have to repair a small hole in my wall and repaint. THE. TRAGEDY.
2) Max has destroyed the carpet on our stairs by peeing all over it. In six years this cat has never, ever had a single litter box accident. (Not counting one time we accidentally closed the closet door where his box was and went out for the day so the poor confused guy went and peed in his water bowl). Now we bring home a puppy and he's all, "Fuck you, your entire house is now my toilet."
So we have to get hardwoods on our stairs. Weep for me. But mostly weep because the expense means less money I can send to Indonesia, where nobody has any carpet or stairs left anywere, and probably no cats either.
3) No heat has given me a cold or something. I feel like shit. I take a whole week off work and then come back sick. But do I have dysentary? Typhoid? No. I did not spend an entire week clinging to a palm tree or searching makeshift morgues for my family. I'm just sniffly and headachy.
So anyway. It's hard to write funny things. It's hard to lament the small inconveniences of my sheltered, spoiled life. The ocean did not eat me. The end.
The ocean didn't eat you either. So if you haven't been guilted enough by another blogger, here's a list of places to send money. And if you already sent money before December 31, I bet you were only doing it for tax purposes so I think maybe you should give a little more.