Leana's Comedy Blog Etc...

The continuing saga of a single, burgeoning stand-up comedienne/wanna-be poker ingénue/bitter corporate drone/closet hermit/hapless homeowner…living in L.A.

Sunday, December 12, 2004

I Hate the Family Circus

Is it too much to ask that my Sunday paper be delivered on Sunday?

I have a very rigid routine when it comes to my Sunday mornings. I wake up between 7 and 8:30 a.m., put on a pot of coffee and walk out to the front of my building to retrieve the Sunday paper.

Once back inside with my paper I proceed to throw away every part of it but the ads and the coupons, making sure not to catch a glimpse of current events or news of any kind. I think there should be an option offered at the Times for people who only want the ads and coupons. It would save a lot of trees if you can ask for the “no news” option.

I make myself a cup of coffee and pour over the Macy’s ads and coupons and decide if I’m going to brave the malls or actually do something productive with my day. Usually I go back to bed.

Regardless of the outcome, that is my ritual. It’s 10:48 a.m. and I still don’t have a paper. This throws off my whole schedule. I’ve already drank two cups of coffee and made two trips to the front of my building, and no paper. I called the Times at 9 a.m. to request a replacement paper and was told it would be there within 90 minutes. So at 10:45 I called again and the customer service rep was all, “you still haven’t gotten your paper?” and I was all “yeah I got it, but I thought I’d call to see what you were doing!” What the hell?? He’s like “well, I’ll fax the driver and you’ll have a replacement within 90 minutes.” I’m like “it’s already been 90 minutes.” He’s all “the driver’s had some trouble with the delivery truck.” I’m all like, “what you mean is that Jose’s little white S10 was so loaded down with lawn mowers and half a dozen rakes, that he couldn’t fit my paper into the bed!”

You can’t start reading the Sunday paper at noon. That’s not how it works. The Sunday paper is for Sunday mornings, when you first get up, wipe the sleep from your eyes, comb the vomit out of your hair and try to forget that in a short 24 hours you’ll be back at your job staring down the next five days of the same ol’ crap.

This throws off my whole Sunday. I might as well go back to bed!

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