Poor Schleps Like Me

I can tell by the glow around my blinds what kind of day it’s going to be. This morning my window radiated like God was trying to make an impression on me, or more likely a cruel joke because the early wake-up call was for work.

So much for the storm of the century, right? All I heard this week was that it was going to be the coldest, wettest Christmas EVAR. StormWatch 2008 was in full effect with “Asian News Reporter” on the corner of pick-your-intersection reporting that yes, in fact, there is water falling from the sky. “Washed-up-former-anchor-who’s-relegated-to-field-work” was reporting from the base of a burned out hill from last month’s fires waiting for the inevitable mudslide to consume him. I don’t want to downplay the potential danger that comes with storms, mudslides, floods, and the like, but come on! LA, you need to man up! It’s just fucking WATER!

It sucks to be working the day after Christmas. Seeing that I’m temping here, I thought I’d impart some yuletide spirit and volunteer. There’s only two of us here at the office, me and the boss, who I play softball with. Luckily, I brought my MacBook and my brand new How I Met Your Mother seasons 1 & 2 DVDs.

I braved the mall crowd Christmas Eve to do some last minute shopping. I wandered into a going-out-of-business sale at Suncoast Pictures and found myself deliberating which DVDs to splurge on: How I Met Your Mother or The Laguna Beach Gift Set. What a dilemma. How I Met Your Mother is my new favorite show. If the The Wonder Years is my idealistic childhood lived vicariously through the eyes of a prepubescent Caucasian boy living in the suburbs of Anywhere, USA, and 90210 is the idealistic teenage years lived vicariously through the eyes of privileged teenagers run amok, then How I Met Your Mother is what my twenties would be like if… if I hadn’t had my head in the clouds wishing my life were more like TV.