Ever have one of those weeks? One of those weeks when you just want to go hide in a dark corner, rocking back and forth and mumbling to yourself? Yeah, that was my week. Let’s see:

• My allergies are back. Waking up at 4AM with a head full of snot is not conducive to getting a good night’s rest.

• Therefore I have a horrible kink in my neck.

• Thus I’ve been cranky every day.

• Oh, and I’m being sued—well, I’m not actually being sued yet, but now, for the second time in four years, I have to run around filing paperwork to prove that no, I’m not the deadbeat who stole my credit card number (not the actual card—there’s the rub) and went on a ten-thousand-dollar spending spree in the Bronx.

• Three words: Jury Summons Enclosed. Apparently I cannot get out of jury duty on the grounds of courtroom phobia.

• Google screwed up NLP’s site indexing. You guys had a great run but can we, like, please have some competition now?

• I suffered what can only be described as an existential crisis. I curse Mr. B., my effeminate-yet-heterosexual high school French teacher, for introducing my young, impressionable mind to Sartre.

See? Alles Scheisse. Ironically enough, the highlight of my week was catching a glimpse of a real-life enema painting. And, well, I did get to hang out with Chelsea Girl, Dacia, Viv, Jefferson and Rachel (who recounts her end of our conversation in remarkable detail).

TFGIF. I’m outta here.

My, ahem, fiancee brought home a print of this surrealist painting today. I wonder whether this is her way of hinting at something that’s all too real.