Fools.

2004-01-14 at 11:10 p.m.

My senior year of college, spring term, I got a call on Tuesday that said I had a job. Yahoo. Much drinking ensued.

The next morning, about 8:00--a senior's favorite time, I might add--I got another call.

"Ms. C------?" (my maiden name)

"MMMmmm. Yeah."

"Hi, this is Jay So and So from the Carleton accounting office?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Yes, well, I'm just calling because there's a problem with your account."

"Uh..."

"It seems when a... uh... Steven C------- [editor's note, my youngest uncle] graduated from here, he had substantial damage to his dormitory room, and that balance is still unpaid? And apparently he's an uncle of yours? So until that balance is paid, you will be unable to graduate?"

"Uhhhhh...."

"The outstanding balance is $381.76."

Cue hyperventilating.

"I... you... wait... that can't... you can't do that!"

"I'm afraid we have to."

"I'm going to call my dad."

Click.

My hungover brain clearly was not processing as it should have.

Because I would have realized it was April 1, and my uncle was on the other line.

For the first few April Firsts after that, my uncle would by turns taunt or avoid me. Now I think he's forgotten, or just assumes I can't do anything.

The sad plain pathetic truth is: I can't think of ANYTHING to do. Or what I do think of to do I can't afford to do.

Reading this tinfoil story--seriously, go read it!--makes me want to do something again, but I can't think of a damn thing. He's in Atlanta, I'm in Portland, he's got money, I'm broke as a joke.

One day, though. One day, I too will be able to exact my revenge on him.

But if anyone has any ideas? Pass 'em on.

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