do-over

I want a do-over. Of most of the summer. Really, it couldn’t have sucked worse donkey balls. From about mid-July to now, I want a complete do-over. Or a total reimbursement. Because summers are supposed to be fun and care-free, and this one certain was neither. I WANT MY MONEY BACK! My car has cost over $300 and two of Kev’s valuable weekends to fix, and it’s still not working right. Even my vacation was marked by frustration (Kev’s stupid boss) and death.

do.

over.

Because now come the crazy thoughts. The “everybody is going to die” thoughts. And maybe I can stop them from dying if I abduct everyone and put them in my room and just watch them. No one can die on my watch. Right? I’m not crazy! Please! Everyone! My bed is comfy and I’m a good cook! Please?

Don’t die on me.

Conversations that have made me smile in spite of my current morbid mode

at choir last night – my first time back since our summer hiatus. And you should know that Clayton is gay

J (choir director): geez, ESC, you’ve had a rough summer!

ESC: I KNOW! I feel like a bad curse for those around me. I want a do-over

Clayton: but you know, your boobs look GREAT!

ESC: oh well…my boobs always look great.

on the phone with Kev today

Kev: got into an accident today on the way to work. it wasn’t my fault, though.

ESC: are you OK???

Kev: oh yeah. There’s a dent on the truck. I told the guy to not even worry about it.

ESC: goddammit. You finally get in a wreck and it had to be your old beat up truck??? it couldn’t have been MY CAR???

Kev: I KNOW, right?

ESC: bet the guy that hit you was pissed

Kev: he was OK once he calmed down and realized it was his own fault. I don’t think he expected me to be so big when I got out of my truck

ESC: he saw your truck and was probably expecting a little Mexican guy*!

Kev: oh why are you so mean?

ESC: he was all wondering where the other 5 guys in the back of the truck were!

Kev: MEAN! Why you gotta bust balls?

*this is a long standing joke. his car is old and beat up. it looks like a painters truck. here in atlanta, that means…well…mexicans. sorry. I know you thought better of me.

Please continue to keep Caroline’s family in your prayers. And the people from my old lab, who lost a good friend and teacher. I’ll be OK.

And that invitation to come live in my room is still open.

Share this post:
  • Facebook
  • email
  • StumbleUpon
  • Twitter

9 comments to do-over

Chattiest!