So I haven’t gotten a lot of sleep the last few nights. The first night was because I was determined to finish Fable 2 before bedtime, which turned out to be five A.M. I woke up at 10 to run to Target to pick up the Dark Knight on Blu-ray. That night, I started playing Fallout 3 and got to bed around four A.M. and again woke up around 10. Now I mention this only because the above sleep schedule, or lack of sleep schedule as is were, is the only excuse for the monumental failure as a human that followed.

I’ve gone to a particular message board for several years now and we do optional secret Santa and Christmas card exchanges annually. I usually don’t take part in the card exchange but this year I decided what the hell. I looked around for a card I could send to the 20 people on the list that was different and quirky and pretty much the anti-thesis of the typical heart-warming bullshit people typically send out. I love cats, for instance,  but I really can’t send out a card that has a kitten in a Christmas stocking without wanting to kick my own ass. So I was looking around for something that wouldn’t make me vomit and subsequently hate myself. After coming up empty in stores and not having time to order any of the bad ass ‘zombies attacking Santa Claus (found at tinaseamonster.etsy.com), I decided to draw my own cards using the characters from my web cartoon which people at the message board have read.

Sounded like a cheap and more personal way to go.

I drew and colored the card on 11 X 14 and took it down to FedEx Kinko’s to have it copied. Before I go on, I have to reiterate that I am not, generally speaking, a fucking idiot. I wandered over to the self-service machines and looked it over. As I stood there punching buttons, it occurred to me that I should probably go to the help kiosk and ask how much 20 11 x 17 color copies would be. It also occurred to me that I should probably go ahead and print out a test copy to make sure the cards didn’t come out looking like warmed over shit. What I did, however, was put my debit card into the machine, punch up 20 copies, and watched as I was charged $38.50 for the copies. It was kind of like when you would try to fill your car up this past summer and stood there and watched the pump rape you like you were a drunken co-ed during spring break.  As the number got higher and higher, I felt more and more blood drain from my face until I must have looked like Edward from Twilight if he were in his early 30’s and not sexually attractive. And also if he looked straight.

Now, maybe I would have felt OK about the price if the copies looked good and people might be impressed or appreciative of the work. As it turns out, and this is where a test copy would have been helpful, the copies looked fairly shoddy. They didn’t look horrible really, just generally substandard. At that point, whatever color was left in my face went the way of the dodo and I started trying to hatch an elaborate plot to get my money refunded and the copies destroyed. I don’t believe that Kinko’s has any sort of ‘I am a ridiculous dumb ass who is lucky to have dressed himself and gotten down here’ policy so I resigned myself to the fact that getting Forgetting Sarah Marshall on Blu-ray was going to have to wait.

When I was looking for envelopes in which to send these fucking travesties, I came across a bundle of not so horrible Christmas cards for the low price of $7.99. I wanted to shoot myself. On the plus side, I found a bundle of envelopes for a dollar and decided to look at that as the palest of silver linings. While I stood in line at the post office to send a package and buy stamps, I wasn’t even bothered by the 30 minute wait only because the circus that my insides were doing was keeping me entertained. By the time I left the post office, I had reduced the $59 in my bank account to $7 and was looking at a lot of ramen in my future.

Later in the day, I took a friend to the post office to deliver some of her packages, the postage of which was less than she expected. And she said so, “that was less than I expected.” It must be fucking nice. I wish I could somehow blame Kinko’s for gouging me or some how wrenching my hard earned dollars away through guile and chicanery, but what it all comes down to is that I just flat fucked up. I don’t know why I didn’t follow my own advice and do what any reasonable adult would do, but I didn’t. In the absence of any logical explanation other than me being complete fucking idiot, which as one might imagine is in my best interest to find, I am going to blame Fallout 3. If it hadn’t been so good, I might have gotten some sleep and I could be watching Mila Kunis in a bikini right now.

Fuckers.