This is a classic line in the 1985 hit movie "Better Off Dead" and it's apparently become the story of my life, at least as it pertains to the last month. If you have never seen it, check out this 4+ minute clip:
I thought Lane had it bad with the paperboy, but he never suffered at the hands of an East Coast asshole who bullies petite, young, delicate wallflowers like myself. Lane got harassed by some underage tool on a bicycle; I've got an overaged tool trying to live out his dream of being a real-life Tony Soprano! Don't get me wrong. I, too, am an East Coast asshole with tool-like tendencies, but you can't bounce a quarter off my ass cheeks like you can his. That's primarily what separates us.
What happened was that he took it upon himself to purchase tickets to yet another running event. While that was fanfreakintastic of him to take the bull by the horns, a little heads up would have been nice. Instead I get a Facebook message to "Pay Up!!" (he even spelled it correctly) or I'm not sleeping in the tent. I was initially excited because that meant that he found a tent big enough to fit me, but then it occurred to me that maybe I'd be better off crying poverty so that I won't have to run again. That was my plan, and I was about to stick to it, until he started showing up on the regular. I never see this dude unless it's on a Friday morning and then all of a sudden he's popping up on a Wednesday. Then a Thursday. Staring at my backside longingly (just because I'm a lesbian does not mean I have my wallet back there, Buddy!); leaving "sleep with one eye open" notes on my windshield; walking by and "mooooo"ing at me while making the Johnny Football cash sign. You know the one....
The man makes about $62 million a year and he can't give a sister a week to come up with $135? That's money for my Dove Bars, Bitch! Anyway....I came up with the dough, handed him a check and was met with "this better not bounce!" Jesus! Go back to Jersey and "keep the change, ya filthy animal!"
I finally got him off my back and could breathe a sigh of relief when, all of a sudden, I found myself asking him for a favor! What is WRONG with me!!??? It's not like I bumped into him and got nervous and had the favor pop out of my mouth either. No. I went out of my way to contact Goodfella and asked him if he wouldn't mind purchasing tickets to another event for me. Between running and dabbling in dough with The Godfather, I must have a death wish!
As always, he didn't disappoint. Crazy came through with the purchase of the tickets and with a casual side of the"PAY UP VACCA!" thinly veiled threatening exclamation points. So now I just need to be more than 80% sure I have the check available (fingers crossed this doesn't end up being the one that bounces) to give to him with a wink and a smile. However, if that wink and smile fails to come to fruition in a timely manner for some reason, here's a hint for you Mayweather: FOOD! Threaten to take it away. There's a good possibility you might get your money faster. Just suggestin'.
Very quickly, before I make my way into hiding, it should be noted that I consider this darling man my friend. Don't you wish you could all be my friends in light of all the lovely adjectives I came up with? Gotta earn them. He did.
* Side effects of writing this post include, but is not limited to, excessive diarrhea from fear of what happens next; nausea at the thought of losing this friendship/connection and headaches caused by excessive worry of being without food.