Call it fart–I mean, fate
It’s only when I’m drunk that I’m diligent about doing the little important things in life. So, on Saturday, after a nice sippy drink, I (1) called to schedule my long-overdue routine check-up appointment with the doc, and (2) called SouthWest to check on the status of my refund from my trip to San Diego. That’s when the nice lady on the phone told me I’d purchased a non-refundable ticket, and had a credit of about $100 valid ’til next year, which contradicted the story the dumb lady who’d earlier canceled my flight had told me.
No matter. I’m hoping to visit Petula (grandma) in Las Vegas for Christmas this year. It’d be choice if Lavern (mom), Jo (sister), Marie (other sister), and Ashley (niece) could come, but that’s a pretty tall order. Maybe this spare $100 credit could kind of help the matter along.
Or it could pay for the ticket of the boyfriend I won’t have to come along.
Or someone could die, and I could use it to fly to their funeral.
In any case, I guess it’s fate that it’s part of my "Ticketless Travel Funds" ™ as opposed to cash in hand. Surely.
Anyways, can someone tell me why the Sugar Ray guy (aka. Mark McGrath) is on E!s Extra Insider Hollywood Reporter?
Simon Cowell rules for making that "beard" comment to Ryan Seacrest. Fuckin’ closeted little imp.
I’m thinking of naming my daughter Beatrix after Beatrix Kiddo from "Kill Bill".
Holla Scholar is coming to visit this week, and it should be off the chain gang. One of my favorite things he once said to me was (as we were leaving, in reference to my satchel), "Are you gonna bring your little qu’est-ce que si?"
