Karma a la extreme

Don't you feel that it's much easier to only see the negative side of karma? You know, when something bad happens you think, "Hmm, I shouldn't have cheated on that test. I guess karma got me again." I seem to say that a lot more than, "Gee whiz, I'm sure glad I donated all my free time and what little excess money I have to the homeless shelter, and because of my good deeds I've been rewarded with a shiny new car and a beautiful girlfriend with rich parents."

It's sad, I know.

But I didn't post an AIDS Awareness post on Dec. 1, National AIDS Day, like many of the other bloggers participating in Bloggers Unite. And now I prepare myself to weather the repercussions.

I awoke this morning to unfriendly rapping on the front door. So I answered it - hair askew, robed in my finest flannel PJs, sans shirt (a scary sight at this point in my life). There stood a man with white hair. "Is Carol (roommate's made-up name) home?" he asked. I said she was in the shower. Sometimes Carol has clients meet her at the house, and I didn't know this man. I caught a glimpse of the driveway -- in the background was my roommate's car, hooked and loaded to the man's tow truck. Then came the curve ball. "I'm here to repossess her car."

Some might imagine that isn't the best way to welcome the morning -- eyes glued together, wearing no shirt, letting the 35 degree weather ferociously bite my nipples. But I persevered. That's what I do. I persevere.

I asked the man to hold while I went down the hall and woke Carol. While she tried to throw some clothes on I sculpted my bestest haphazard BS face and tried to knock that curve ball right outta the park. "You want some coffee?" I asked. "No, thanks. She owes $xxx amount, and I only accept cash," he said.

"OK. How do you expect her to have such a large sum of money at 8 in the a.m.?" He looked at me, searching for an answer, "These are the orders." Carol had overheard and came screaming down the hall she is paid to date and flaunted certified payment history from the bank.

By 8:30 I was making coffee for a strange man ready to "steal" - as the term should come to be known - with nipples erect like the Washington Monument. Carol is screaming on the phone to the bank. The man is talking to me about my day job. Carol starts crying. I tell her to pull it together. She cried more. The man got ready to leave. I said, "Pal. Don't take the car."

I know it didn't sound profound. But I didn't have a speech prepared. Silly me. So Carol spent the next 45 minutes running around town trying to collect a grip of cashola. I made this guy eggs. And more coffee. He finished nearly the entire pot. Then Carol came back with a wad of cash, but wanted a cashier's check. So I ran to the bank for her. The teller was a very attractive young lady. We flirted. Then some D-bag came from nowhere and kissed her. He had spikey hair. And an Abercrombie polo. Go figure. Real fuckin original, guy. I came home, the man left. Carol was still sobbing, call it the curse of the PMS. Then I went to work.

And I feel terrible, because I think all of this could have been prevented if I had written an AIDS post. So to those of you who have HIV or full-blown AIDS, I'm sorry I let you down. It is a serious and very real disease. Many of us think, "I know, I know" but the reality is there are still too many people who don't know. So please, help spread the word.

That said, who wants to get drunk?