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.