Confessions of an Excusaholic

I am not sorry that the DC Sniper is going to die tonight.  Not at all.   However, I am sorry that I may have used his reign of terror to further my own self-interests at times.  Just on occasion, just a little bit, not all that often but probably some of the time, I maybe displayed poor judgment.  I was just a wee-Barista back then.  I have grown up considerably since 2002.

I am sorry that I called the NBC station in Baltimore and reported that my neighbor might be The Sniper.  But no law-abiding citizen owns a sketchy white van, right?

I’m sorry that I lied and said I couldn’t get into Rockville, MD to work one morning because The Sniper was on the loose in that area.  He was on the loose, as was I.  Alas, I was in Atlantic City.

I’m sorry that I spilled my Cosmo (uh, it was 2002) all over our living room and said that I was scared that I just heard the sniper.  I was just jittery from a three-day bender.

I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to my now-husband at a party because I was “too engrossed” in that day’s sniper coverage.  I was just shy, and too stupid to cheat on my then-boyfriend.  I totally should have cheated on the lame then-boyfriend.

I’m sorry that I declined a wedding invitation, saying that I was instructed to keep the highways clear in case of a sniper attack.  I’m even sorrier that the couple had a cash bar and I felt compelled to lie to avoid that event.

I’m sorry that I closed the bar I tended at a different time every night saying that property management wanted the shopping center to be harder for the sniper to target.  I was just being lazy.

I’m sorry that I told my roommate that she should tie a sweater around her waist so that she would be appear to be a smaller, more challenging hit for the sniper.  That was just rude of me.  But my social-sports team was named SOFA (Sweater Over Fat Ass) that year and I mistakenly thought the disguise was a helpful fashion hint. 

Present day, I’m sorry that I called TLW “Tubs” this morning.  I was not stressed over John Allen Muhammad’s attorney’s plea for clemency.  I just think it’s funny to call her Tubs.  She’s real little.  I’m sure she understands.  She calls her bald feral cat Mr. Fluffy all the time.


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