THE SARCASTIC UNIVERSE

It's a bad start to the week.

The Universe gave me attitude today.

I was going through my normal Monday routine: get out of bed with a Ben and Jerry's hangover from our regular Sunday night movie screening (2012... sensational stuff), make some coffee and inject it into Victoria's veins to avoid total chaos breaking out in our household and then sit down in front of my aging, wheezing laptop (high time for the people at Apple to begin sponsoring this blog) to check my email and read about the Mets' latest defeat.

No surprises on the Mets side of things. But when I checked my inbox, I saw my daily message from the Universe and it went something like this:

The recession is now over, Marc.

Good one.

You can take the rest of the week off.




.....huh? At first I didn't know what to make of this. Was the Universe really telling me to unfold the beach chair, pop open the coconut tanning oil and blend up my best batch of pina colada, umbrella included? Surely not... that couldn't be it. One thing I do know about the Universe is that it works hard. What with the constant expansion, the dark matter, black holes, dying stars giving birth to new ones, the whole Tonight Show fiasco, I mean jesus.... to speak in the vernacular of a former waiter, the Universe is in the weeds. It couldn't possibly be encouraging me to revert back to my lazy, sport-watching, ice cream-inhaling, sloth-impersonating self, could it?


The short answer to that, upon review of its missive to me, is no. Upon reading the note a second time, I began to suspect that I was being toyed with. An acerbic tone was making itself apparent to me. I felt vulnerable, exposed. Had the Universe been watching these past few days? How could it, with its massive work schedule, possibly have known that I'd indeed been resting on my laurels, congratulating myself for my recent successes (if you haven't heard about those, you soon will- trust me) and leaving my daily to-do list comfortably blank and untouched as it sat on the one tiny shelf that Victoria has allotted me in the apartment that she occasionally allows me to share with her?


I have no answer to that, except to say: it did know. Worse than that, it was now chastising me for my indolence. Of course the recession isn't over. The Universe definitely keeps up with the news (a big Rachel Maddow fan from what I hear) and knows what an enormous economic shambles we're all in. It would never be so presumptuous as to view the tiniest bit of upward movement on the stock market combined with a few  jobs gained as an opportunity to revert back to irresponsibility and start partying... that's Wall Street's job. 


Then there was the "good one". Good one??? Isn't that what we say to someone in sardonic fashion after they've behaved like an absolute twit at a dinner gathering, or ruined your surprise party, or inadvertently soiled themselves next to us during a screening of Saw 6? Was the Universe really going there?

Absolutely.

Folks, I've just been scolded and I must tell you, it stings. I haven't felt this castigated since Anoushka Thompson berated me in 3rd grade for
                                                                                                                
not letting the rest of the class win during our daily Mathematical Shootout right after recess as I stood triumphantly over the corpses of arithmetically inept youngsters who lay scattered about the classroom. She had pinpricked the balloon of my inflated ego and, as my many therapists (in addition to my girlfriend) will tell you, I've never recovered.                                                                                                      

And now this.

Maybe it's a blessing in disguise. Maybe I needed a good kick in the cods. We all get complacent from time to time.

So, my lovely readership, I'm going to finish writing this essay and put my dang computer down. I'm going to stand up, go over to the aforementioned tiny, cramped shelf (better known in our household as "your area") and I'm going to blow the dust off the top of my pad that serves as my to-do list. I will look at the supermarket that is my life and walk down its many aisles, scanning the shelves for places that need restocking (you too can use dazzling metaphors- I do private coaching). I will flush the rest of that Cherry Garcia right down the drain whether Victoria likes it or not- she only likes the chocolate chunks anyway.

Then I will get to work. I will show the Universe what happens when it gets sassy with me.

And I will prevail over the sarcastic old fart.

(Picture: The Universe.... weisenheimer)