somebody schedule me a fun time somewhere so I have that confusion to look forward to when I wake up next Monday wondering how the it got to be Monday again. there would be evidence of a weekend to be sure. like the lack of cash, credit card reciepts for a card that is not my card and napkin with lipstick lips with a note underneath that says “CALL ME! B…” who’s B and what’s her number? of course the phone is no where to be seen.

eventually I would find the phone which would have a new sticker from In and Out Burger affixed to the back. I love In and Out but I love it even more remembering going to enjoy the burgers, fry’s and frosty shake. shaking it off the next stop is the phone log, the camera, and the other camera….

the phone buzzes a TXT which displays… “WHERE THE F ARE YOU!” from a number don’t know. I reply “WHOIS 8675309” and in seconds “I’M YOUR wife YOU DORK! YOU’RE LATE to MEET my PARENTS!” yes, I’m a DORK but Wife? Parents? Late of course I’m always late. it’s part of my MO of being a dorky writer with no life, no GF, nothing, not even a dog. the phone vibrates one last message “I have your dog. Can you get to Eddy’s in 30? we’re in line and it will take long for seats?”

so I have a dog too? cool…

of course that would never happen. instead I’m starring down this warm-ish coffee and four day old bagel while trying to write. the screen taunts me. the blinking cursor blinks. again. repeat…

who wouldn’t want to wake up to a Monday like that? I feel physically drained of all enthusiasm for NOT writing.