Cannon-balls Run!

I had one of those days.
You know the ones.
Wake up at 7 a.m. and somehow you're not too tired or burdened. The five hours of sleep you got was just enough
.
You pack your bag to the go to the gym BEFORE work, a major feat in itself. A bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios and 2 cups of coffee later, you step out into a cool morning! Cool, I said. The LA heat has loosened it's steely grip and allowed the temp to drop below 80 degrees for the first time in months. And you suck it all in and stroll to your 2001 Dodge Neon (should you be so fortunate) with an uncharacteristic spring in your sneakers.

You cruise down the 'Bataan Death March' that is Brand Ave. in Glendale, without having to dodge one half-full cup of Jamba Juice tossed from the open window of an unhappy hairy shouldered, missing link behind the wheel of a leased Benz, who disagrees with your belief that because 3 old lady's are crossing the road, you should NOT plow through them so that he can get to 'Hypnotic' to suck on a Hookah until 6 pm when he has to visit his parole officer.

You have a semi-productive workout and for the first time since you joined the gym, not one man above the age of seventy feels the need to walk around the locker room with his ancient scrotum dangling between his leathery knees.

You go to the job that you don't hate but have no undying affection for, and you have FUN. Shockingly, for at least this special day, waiting tables doesn't suck cock! All of your favorite regulars come in. And THEY have fun! They enjoy their food and enjoy themselves and leave big tips. The end of shift tally is $85 bucks... on a day shift! A wonderful total in these uncertain financial times.

You come home and catch your girlfriend on her way out the door to her job and you remember for the thousandth time how great she is and truly lucky you are. You give her a hug and a kiss and there's genuine love in both. You joke around and love each other some more and then when she leaves, you silently wish her a great night and you think about how nice it'll be to hug her when she gets home.

You pour yourself a gin and diet tonic ('cause why waist the ten minutes you put in on that treadmill that very morning) and turn on a playoff baseball game. You don't much care about either team but they care a lot and that makes it a dramatic watch.

Wait! The mail! You dumb son-of-a-bitch! THE MAIL!

On a day like today, the mail must hold wonders. Anything could be in there? Your wildest fantasies could be fulfilled. A relative you never really knew or cared about much either way has left you a couple G's in her will. That HGTV 50-inch tv you entered to win 3 years ago is arriving on Monday. That recurring day dream about how that hotel commercial you did WAY back, didn't pay you for a whole 6 month cycle and now SAG has swooped in and ordered them to pay you in full, plus penalties, has finally come in! The resulting $16,365 check has left you in fine shape while the rest of the country swirls toward the drain in this toilet of an economy. It all could be in the mail box right this minute.

You hustle your tired yet excited bones down the two flights, slip your key in and snatch the healthy stack (always a good sign) and head back up the steps.

As you cross the threshold onto the 3rd floor, flipping through the bounty as you go, you come to an envelope that may as well be filled with satan's after-cinco de mayo shit.

Holding the evil parcel seems to even burn your bewildered fingertips.

In the top left corner it reads 'TRAFFIC VIOLATIONS BUREAU'.

Your heart falls into your lower intestine and the hallway wavers in front of you.
The only word that fits the moment is the word that escapes your lips. "Fuck."

You mope into your apartment, slit it open roughly with your index digit and read what you already knew what was coming.

You ran a red light on the way home from an audition. You remember the moment with great clarity (you thought it went quite well but yet didn't get called back) and they have photos of you doing it.

It get's worse. Not only did you do it, get caught red handed doing it, HAVE TO PAY $380 DOLLARS FOR DOING IT, but in the awfulness that is the multiple pictures of proof, you look like a fat wigger with gas station sunglasses on, smoking a cigarette and driving a total shitbox of a car. I look like an extra from '8 Mile' who thought that moment he hollered "peace out,
B Rabbit" during the final rap battle was gonna make all of the CAA crew moisten their boxer briefs, but it didn't quite happen.

You sit back and try to remember what really matters in life. Be positive! Life is too short. How lucky you truly are...

But you end up pouring a half-dozen more gin and diet tonics and using the implicating pictures as an extremely large and effective coaster.

$380 dollars? For that kind of scratch I feel like I should have done something much worse. Maybe roughed up a hipster or two. Stole a fucking bike... anything.

But.

He giveth, and he taketh... unflattering, expensive photos.