the walk of shame, merde style
Oct. 28th, 2005 06:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mountain_laurelladies and gentlemen, i have Fucked Up.
i've just discovered that i have $15 left in the bank and $20 in my wallet, which is considerably less than the $1500 or so i thought i had. i'm working on figuring that out, but my guess is that i lost track of something, because i haven't exactly been at my best lately. then again, that's a lot of money to lose track of. my single optimistic molecule suspects the IRS. anyway, in the meantime i'm well and truly fucked.
how fucked? well. i need refills on at least $200 worth of medication. i just got a 48-hour notice on my electric bill, on which i owe $144. my cellphone (which is non-optional for job-hunting) will be turned off on the 31st unless i pay them $109. my rent ($1245) is due in four days. my COBRA payment, once i get the stupid payment booklet from them because they won't accept a payment without the special payment slip, will be $361 (and then i'll be able to get refunds for the cash i've shelled out for prescriptions, but they probably won't arrive until december at least.) i have no clean clothes or bedding and my interview pants need dry-cleaning. and if i exercise my stock options right now, once they deduct the taxes i'll be getting only $1074. (dammit, if ERTS would go back up to $58 it'd be a couple hundred more dollars for me! fix that, will you,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mister_borogove?)
dammit, i'm not like this. (except during those rare interludes when i am. it's never lasted this long before.) i mean, yeah, i know i bring new meaning to the phrase "fiscal irresponsibility," but i'm not usually this stupid. it's my fucking brain. i know what i need to do, but as soon as i try to set my mind on something, my brain says "whoa! this shit is harshing our mellow!" and switches back to the Trashy Fiction Channel, where the chicks dig scars and the men lead lives of danger. this has been my personal defense mechanism since i was 14. occasionally, for variety, i'll come back down to reality and realize i've just spent two hours detailing all the TV remotes with 409 and a Q-tip. 409 -- 007 -- is there a connection?
why couldn't i be one of those people who sublimates their crazy into work?
anyway. what i really need is for someone to sit next to me and smack me upside the head whenever my attention wanders. that and David Krumholtz naked in my bed holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and a bag of cat treats in the other. sorry. i wandered again for a minute there. what i was trying to say is, goddammit, i am going to find a job if i have to flagellate myself with an eight-headed RCA cable to do it. or David Krumholtz does. oops!
right. cut to the chase. i never in a million years thought i'd resort to this because i think it's mega-tacky, but i'm down to begging. please, help me out if you can afford to. i will consider it a loan, and you will be paid back as soon as humanly possible (which, obviously enough, won't be before the end of the year). if money is tight for you, please don't send it to me. the last thing i want is to put a burden on somebody else because of my own brain-fuckage.
PayPal is friend to children:
to sweeten the pot, everyone who helps out will get a CD from me as a thank-you. (my first release in 15 years!) i haven't quite decided what to put on it, but you can expect a mix of live, studio, and basement tracks of assorted vintages. how many vintages depends on how many of the unlabeled tapes in my closet that i haven't listened to for ten years are still playable.
oh, and feel free to suggest names for the CD. i don't promise to use any of them, but your ideas never fail to amuse.
i've just discovered that i have $15 left in the bank and $20 in my wallet, which is considerably less than the $1500 or so i thought i had. i'm working on figuring that out, but my guess is that i lost track of something, because i haven't exactly been at my best lately. then again, that's a lot of money to lose track of. my single optimistic molecule suspects the IRS. anyway, in the meantime i'm well and truly fucked.
how fucked? well. i need refills on at least $200 worth of medication. i just got a 48-hour notice on my electric bill, on which i owe $144. my cellphone (which is non-optional for job-hunting) will be turned off on the 31st unless i pay them $109. my rent ($1245) is due in four days. my COBRA payment, once i get the stupid payment booklet from them because they won't accept a payment without the special payment slip, will be $361 (and then i'll be able to get refunds for the cash i've shelled out for prescriptions, but they probably won't arrive until december at least.) i have no clean clothes or bedding and my interview pants need dry-cleaning. and if i exercise my stock options right now, once they deduct the taxes i'll be getting only $1074. (dammit, if ERTS would go back up to $58 it'd be a couple hundred more dollars for me! fix that, will you,
mister_borogove?)dammit, i'm not like this. (except during those rare interludes when i am. it's never lasted this long before.) i mean, yeah, i know i bring new meaning to the phrase "fiscal irresponsibility," but i'm not usually this stupid. it's my fucking brain. i know what i need to do, but as soon as i try to set my mind on something, my brain says "whoa! this shit is harshing our mellow!" and switches back to the Trashy Fiction Channel, where the chicks dig scars and the men lead lives of danger. this has been my personal defense mechanism since i was 14. occasionally, for variety, i'll come back down to reality and realize i've just spent two hours detailing all the TV remotes with 409 and a Q-tip. 409 -- 007 -- is there a connection?
why couldn't i be one of those people who sublimates their crazy into work?
anyway. what i really need is for someone to sit next to me and smack me upside the head whenever my attention wanders. that and David Krumholtz naked in my bed holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and a bag of cat treats in the other. sorry. i wandered again for a minute there. what i was trying to say is, goddammit, i am going to find a job if i have to flagellate myself with an eight-headed RCA cable to do it. or David Krumholtz does. oops!
right. cut to the chase. i never in a million years thought i'd resort to this because i think it's mega-tacky, but i'm down to begging. please, help me out if you can afford to. i will consider it a loan, and you will be paid back as soon as humanly possible (which, obviously enough, won't be before the end of the year). if money is tight for you, please don't send it to me. the last thing i want is to put a burden on somebody else because of my own brain-fuckage.
PayPal is friend to children:
to sweeten the pot, everyone who helps out will get a CD from me as a thank-you. (my first release in 15 years!) i haven't quite decided what to put on it, but you can expect a mix of live, studio, and basement tracks of assorted vintages. how many vintages depends on how many of the unlabeled tapes in my closet that i haven't listened to for ten years are still playable.
oh, and feel free to suggest names for the CD. i don't promise to use any of them, but your ideas never fail to amuse.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-10-31 04:21 pm (UTC)And they haven't even taking out the overdraw fees.
Payday was last friday.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-31 08:45 pm (UTC)