Extra Day Bitterness

You know that advertisement for Extra gum where the guy meets the girl in high school? They have all kinds of special moments so he starts drawing them on Extra gum wrappers? Then he proposes to her by showing her all the drawings he made on the wrappers? Talk about giving extra to get extra right? Talk about romantic right?

Most of the time, extra is considered a nice thing right? Extra cheese on pizza? Extra sprinkles on ice cream? An Extra 10 minutes on your favorite episode on Netflix? Well, today is an extra day of the year. Does that mean it should be a holiday and we don’t have to work? Nope, just an extra Monday for all of us to enjoy. You know what extra means to me?

No extra sprinkles for you.

No extra sprinkles for you.

One extra blog post I have to come up with. Like it’s not hard enough to do 180 some every year. I still haven’t seen a dime from one of you guys and yet here I am coming up with yet ONE more special Extra Leap year post just for you. It’s like working every other day for the last four years at your job and not only not getting paid, but when you put in overtime get paid time and a half on the zero dollars you were getting.

One extra day where I have to pay for gas and groceries. One more day that I have to pay on my mortgage. One more day that I have to pay for cable, and energy, light, heat and electrical wires that allow people selling pest control to call me at 8:30 at night. One more day that inflation goes up and my pay doesn’t.

The leaning tower of Pizza that is me.

The leaning tower of Pizza that is me.

One more day where this crumbling tower of heart burn, this leaning tower of pizza, this duct tape held together mess of brittle bones, this storage unit of frayed nerves, this fragmented hard drive of bad ideas, this buckets of bitterness I call a body is one day closer to taking a ride on the bridge from Alaska to Russia. (For you people that like direct talk, I’m gonna die.)

One extra day of money wasted on campaigning for people uniquely qualified to scare the crap out of us. Into terrorizing all of us into thinking there is NO one left in a land mass of 350,000,000 people capable of running this country that isn’t a complete Looney Tunes nutcase. Not one person that would make us feel more comfortable running the country than Bugs Bunny, the Tasmanian Devil, Scooby Doo, Wiley E. Coyote, Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Pickachu or Yogi Bear (all animals by the way).

Probably make more money for their reality show than they ever dig up in gold.

Probably make more money for their reality show than they ever dig up in gold.

One more day of Kim making more money for continually doing nothing but complaining in a nasally voice, one more day of Patricia Arquette being famous despite her voice being more monotone than mine, one more day of an awards show being used to sell Girl Scout cookies and one’s personal political views, one more day of someone completely idiotic getting a reality show for being a rich housewife, a bachelor, a bachelorette, a hoarder, a gator wrangler, a pawn star, or a golddigger (figuratively or literally.)

One more day listening to co-workers complaining about being sick or tired, or sick and tired of being sick and tired. Complaining about how they never have enough time to do their work, but having plenty of time to complain about it. Complaining about when you send a call to them, but perfectly fine sending a call to you.

And one more day where kids that I didn’t bring into the world will be eating our food, messing up our house, and playing our video games, contributing to one more headache, more extra day of work that I will have to work in order to afford all that.

Bitter Leap Day everyone. Make sure you give extra so you get extra. Extra pain in the neck. (By the way, I assume Extra Gum is going to pay me Extra for endorsing their product poorly.)

ARRRRGGGGHHHHH

Bitter Extra Good For Nothing Ben

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42 thoughts on “Extra Day Bitterness

  1. I spent my “extra day” doing a Rossini evening (he’s a leap day baby) for bored housewives and their bitter, or sleeping, husbands, and then watching a Dr Who rerun about a British spaceship on the back of a starwhale who’s brain is being tortured. That about sums it up.

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  2. I am an extra in the game of life. I am the guy on star trek with no name and a faded tee shirt that you know will be killed off in the first ten minutes. I am the one with a tombstone with the chisel marks that have a grammatical mistake in the writing. I am the extra which would be better spent if not spent. If I were not the first child in my family I would have been the extra baggage left at the airport. Bitter am I, say the Yoda.

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  3. I’m as bitter as you about the politics. They could have at least moved Super Tuesday and made it Super Monday, so we could have one LESS day of watching children fight on the playground.

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