Being underemployed as I am, I was still in bed when my phone rang at 8:15 this morning. That is when I discovered that my recent cold has left me with no voice. "Hello?" is what I tried to say, but what came out was more of a breathy, voiceless Haaaah sound that vaguely resembled heavy breathing. It was my ex-boyfriend. Awesome. He just wanted to say thanks for the Christmas present I sent. "Oh, good," I whispered. Yeah. Can I call you later?" Sure, he said, mildly confused.
Although I sound like I've smoked 4 packs of cigarettes--made of fiberglass--every day for my whole life, I feel fine. So I sent to French Meadow for coffee and, forcing air out of my lungs with all my might, I said to the barista, "Coffee?" which came out like a satanic growl. The barista's expression changed to some combination of both pity and fear. While I admit I'm not my perky self before my morning coffee, and I consider myself a mild coffee addict, I do not actually turn into the devil without it. The barista’s service was rather swift today, I must say.
I made a decision to make the most of it. I settled in with my coffee and paper for a day of reading and writing and peace and quiet.
My phone rang again. It was Mr. Dashing. A handsome fellow I’ve had a crush on since summer. We hung out a couple times and had a ton of fun, but then there was a bit of a miscommunication and I reluctantly wrote him off. I haven’t heard from him since October. My phone beeped—a voicemail. “Hey,” he'd said, “Listen, I know I must seem flakey to you, but I really wanted to explain.” [Insert totally reasonable explanation here.] “So, I’m sorry, and now that I'm in a better place to give you the attention you deserve, I’d love to take you out. So if you’re still interested, please give me a call back sometime today and let me know if you’re free for drinks on Thursday.”
“Nooooo!” I shouted, only nothing came out.
5 comments:
I stumbled onto your blog, and it is very funny. (try a little slippery elm or aloe juice--The Wedge has it.)
Oh honey! That is terrible. Hot water with lemon and honey, that should make you at least a little understandable. . . Can't wait to hear about Mr. Hot Stuff.
Jiffy Lube does have free coffee.
I used to live in mpls--until about 7 years ago. You can also go to this hippie place Present Moment Books and Herbs, which is on 35th and Grand, and a Rasta man will make you a tea for your throat.
i love books, herbs and rasta men. yay.
Maybe God wasn't playing a trick. Maybe s/he was saying, "Try this on for size. Throw down some bad ass karma and watch the world fall in line!"
Have you ever tried evil? Don't knock it 'til you tried it. I should know. I'm a publicist.
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