Where the fuck is the remote?

Nothing is more aggravating then when you can't find the remote. It's sort of funny how when you can't find the remote, you start looking in places that would never, in a billion years, have a remote. But, the thing with remotes is that you tend to take them with you, often unknowingly, on little adventures around your house or apartment. Phone rings upstairs, gotta go up and see who it is -- remote in hand. Doorbell rings, gotta go answer it -- remote in hand. Toilet clogs, gotta go do some dirty work -- remote in hand.

The other day, I couldn't find my remote and it was driving me insane. I contemplated actually doing some homework, but that only increased my insanity level exponentially.

I started off with the usual places where a remote might hideout, under the couch, on the floor somewhere. No luck. So then I started looking in wierd places. The pockets in my jeans. Nope. The fridge? What the fuck am I thinking?! I even checked in the oven! Lord have mercy! My rationalization for looking in such crazy spots went something like this: "Hmm.. I did go to the fridge earlier to get a drink... maybe I picked up a drink and left the remote in there" -- or -- "Hmm.. I did have something in the oven earlier, maybe I left the remote in there by mistake". The way I was thinking, I'm surprised I wasn't like "Hmm... I was in Chicago a few months ago, maybe I'll catch the bus down there and have a look". I was about to go looking for my remote in Oprah's panties, but I figured no man has been anywhere near there in ages. Ayyy-o!!!

Long story short, (short story long is more like it), I found my remote underneath a pile of debris. I didn't even have to use my AK, I gotta say, today was a good day.