The only thing I'm saying about Saturday:
"This reminds me of two years ago when that -- AUGH -- I DON'T EVEN HAVE A WORD FOR HIM -- promised me up until freaking 24 hours before opening kickoff that he bought season tickets for us, and you know what? It was all a lie. A huge letdown and a huge lie. Like this season's been. It's all one GIANT HUGE LIE and one giant letdown."
-- Jacque on the phone, 11:45 p.m. Saturday night, taking it all out on someone who just happened the be the unfortunate S.O.B. who answered the phone
Cooler heads since have prevailed. The sun came up, but still hasn't shined here. I really don't even mean what I said about the season being a letdown. Or a giant lie.
You want a prediction about the weather, you're asking the wrong Phil. I'll give you a prediction: It's going to be cold. It's going to be gray. And it's going to last you for the rest of your life.
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7 comments:
Poor guy. But ya know what they say: You only hurt the ones you love.
You know, on some levels, I'm sure that he probably *thought* about answering the phone before he did, and then he boldly answered it and ended up on the receiving end of my rant that culminated with my phone cutting out right after "I swear to God I'm gonna ..."
I was encouraged to go to bed ... but instead I drove to New Martinsville. And realized 20 minutes from home that my wallet was still on the table in Morgantown. Sigh.
What I learned: Just listen to reason when reason answers the phone knowing that you're going to yell a whole lot.
mom likened it to raising the last forkful of a great meal and watching it splat to the floor.
i'm past denial, anger and bargaining. to borrow another bill murray movie quote: "and then depression set in."
It does feel like Groundhog Day, though. The same thing keeps happening ...
Phil? Like the groundhog Phil?
Why is there now Tip Top Cafe in Punxsutawney?!
And your mom is right ... it's like going to Spago and just when that last bite is ready to go in ... BOOM.
Can I mention the SOB? I'll even do it in Haiku form.
I don't know, Benny. "Pennsylvania" is gonna eat up at least four syllables. But you know I do love your poetry.
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