03/19/03’s illustrious band:

L is for Loser

Brought to you by my ex. This is a rant, but a short one. So far. This week's drama: another reading from the Book of Trout.

My state tax refund arrived in the mail on Saturday, but it was less than what I had filed for. I also received a notice saying that $205 had been "recaptured" by a collection agency. Collection agency?! I don't have any collection agencies after me! My bills are paid up! So I knew this could mean only one thing: Mr. Ex and his snot-green pickup. Well, it's technically his parents' pickup now, since as you may recall I made him sell it to them to get my name off the title, since he kept missing payments on it and I kept getting charged for them.

But it turns out that the irresponsible sonsabitches never quite completed the title transfer. So when they -- or Trout Boy himself, because you know mommy and daddy are still letting him drive the truck -- got a few unpaid parking tickets racked up, and the parking agencies turned them over to a collection agent . . . sure enough, the collectors looked at the title info and assumed it's still my truck.

So I mailed my ex-in-laws a rather sharply worded letter. They owe me $205, immediate closure on the title business, and an extremely sincere apology. Otherwise I'm taking their sorry butts down. I've had way more than enough of this.

But enough about me. Let's talk about the war the geniuses in Washington will be starting tonight. We're all losers when it comes to war. Makes my little problem seem petty by comparison. Let's all hope it ends quickly, or I'll be forced to deal with Saddam and Little Georgie, too, because SOMEBODY has to be the responsible adult around here, and it looks like this is my week.

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