“ [screams] Nerve of those Whos. Inviting me down there...on such short notice! Even if I wanted to go, my schedule wouldn't allow it! [opens his schedule] '4:00; Wallow in self-pity, 4:30; Stare into the abyss, 5:00; Solve world hunger.' Tell no one. '5:30; (Jazz and exercise, or a.k.a.) Jazzercise. 6:30; Dinner with me.' I can't cancel that again. '7:00; Wrestle with myself loathing…' I'm booked! Of course, if I bump the loathing to 9, I could still be done in time to lay in bed, stare at the ceiling and slip slowly into madness… but what would I wear?”