Ladies and Gentleman, It. Has. Be. Gun.

I wanted to kind of round this out and start it at the beginning of a pay period, but sometimes my hatred for decimal points becomes too much of a burden even for me, and so I decided that now is as good a time as any. If you understood anything of what I just wrote, please feel free to show your math in the Comments section.

Friends, stalkers, acquaintances, lurkers, family members, IRS Agents... The California Relocation Action Plan, or C.R.A.P., has commenced.*

The past few days since I have returned from vacation, I have been wracking my brain for ways to save up enough money to make a smooth and timely re-entrance back into California life.

When I did it before, I was young and stupid. I wasn't poor, because I was making buttloads of money listening to rich, ropey bitches squawk about towel service, late aerobics instructors and locker fees - FULL TIME. However, I was stupid because I ate and drank most of the proceeds of those labors and did not provide a squishy-enough cushion in the event I stumbled while persuing my new, sun-drenched, smog-filled life. I stumbled within 40 minutes of arrival, in fact, when I left my purse containing LOTS of cash on top of my car at a gas station.

The rest was downhill, even though I had steady employment, great roommates, a great apartment, etc... I was tired all the time; exhausted and panicky. I was depressed. And this was all BEFORE I hit the old lady in the crosswalk on Kimberly's birthday and consequently embarked on a downward spiral to the bottomest bottom, accompanied by Dido and Baja Fresh. And pot. And cigarettes. I digress.

THIS TIME IT'S GOING TO BE DIFFERENT.

This time, I'm saving every penny I don't spend on coffee. This time, I will not leave my purse on top of my car, and if I do, it sure as fuck won't have all my money in the world in it. Or my passport, which I'm SURE shepherded several illegal doppelgangers through some national borders.

This time, I'm going back because I choose to go to California, not because I feel like I should go to California. This time, I know more about myself and what I want than I ever have, ever. This time will be different.

Because this time? I HAVE A BINDER. And it has SEVENTEEN TABS with room for THREE MORE.

The C.R.A.P. Binder will help keep me focused and organized, and will give me a new obsession with which to fill my time during the next several, sure-to-be endless, hot and very stinky months.

I enjoy working on the C.R.A.P. Binder. I have never had more fun making tabs in all my life. And today, when I was busy aggravating my carpal tunnel by cutting manageable squares off of a HUGE sheet of bubble wrap because the Agency where I work is too cheap to buy the perforated shit, I thought to myself, in that low, low moment, "MAN. I can't wait to finish this so I can work on my C.R.A.P."

*I wish I could say that I made that up, but I totally didn't. I helped, but this guy put the "CR" in my "AP."