I Desire to Reason With God

For a few days now, I've been searching for just the right metaphor to express the unique brand of suck my life has cloaked itself in like some tacky-ass, leopard-patterned Slanket -- and today, at long last, I think I've found it:



Not only does it crest the hump of no-longer-funny-tude and come sliding ludicrously down the other side, but it is also presented in mirror-image, black and white, and German! Seriously, you'd need grainy video footage of Hitler dry-humping Linda Tripp in a Carmen Miranda hat (either of them, or both, it doesn't matter) to trump that kind of surrealist trifecta. Unless (since I appear to be caught up in some sort of '90s-cum-Deutschlandic revolving door, I figure I might as well tuck and run) it could be beat by Linda Tripp and Monica Lewinsky in a festival of boobs.

Anyway, now that you've got all manner of appropriately disturbing mental images to choose from, let me introduce you to the most-recently naturalized citizen of the United States of EGE's Suckitude:

I just got sacked.

That's right, ladies and gentlemen (and whatever other motley creatures out there might find these sorts of disturbed ramblings amusing), my Lady -- the one who has employed me for ten years; the one who has been literally out of her mind since mid-November; the one I took care of for 120 hours straight back then before her Doctor told me to bring her in, 120 hours that cost me the opportunity to say goodbye to my dying mother; and the one whose affairs I have been managing ever since (in close counsel with her psychiatrist and attorney) -- has accused me of having her committed against her will, taking advantage of her generosity, and abusing my position as her Power of Attorney.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Oh, except for this*:



On which more tomorrow...


*OK, fine. I wasn't going to warn you that this video is not appropriate for work or children, and maybe the still image was enough to clue you in, but my stick-up-her-ass conscience got the better of me. I'm putting it in a footnote, though, because my SUHA conscience would still like to think of herself as more Jessica Rabbit than Jiminy Cricket, if it's all the same to you.