Bitch, bitch, bitch

My contribution to the October issue of fête will be a self-deprecating (sort of) graphic novel-style layout and a  three-part video rant. Just random crap that’s gotten under my skin of late. There’s ample seating under said skin for everybody, by the way, so bring a friend. No reservations required.


The last thing that my ex said to me after we’d hugged our final formal goodbyes outside the real estate attorney’s office was this: “Not everybody is out to get you, Tim.” (sigh) I’d asked the attorney too many questions, pressed him too hard about a property tax issue. His smile had faded as it became clear to him that I wasn’t there simply to sign whatever lines his secretary had flagged for my signature. I was exceeding the time that he’d agreed to spend on the matter in exchange for a standard fee. I wasn’t being a good customer.


She was right, of course. Not everybody is out to get me.

Not at the moment, anyway.