how to buy tadalafil online

Notes From A Walkman Junkie:  Sometimes I Overreact 

July 22, 2010
By

So I was having a Snapple on a typical evening at work in the gallery when a gaggle of shrieking teenage girls walked in — disturbing my once-peaceful Snapple fact (there are more chickens in the world than people) bliss.  The intrusive pack consisted of five girls, each equally loud and all sharing the predilection for using the word ‘like’ more than anyone ever should.  Though I tried desperately to ignore the senseless garble, one of the girls’ shrill voices was overwhelmingly present as she relayed the results of her recent physic reading.  She spoke of the following discoveries and revelations:  She is going to marry a man whose name starts with either a P, R or T — let’s just say it will start will start with a letter.  She is going to have twins and “be like famous, like, overseas”, and music and water will always be a part of her life — I would have added eating, sleeping, and breathing just for good measure.  I then offered a silent prediction of my own — if I had to endure one more minute of her incessant yammering, she would be flogged with whatever I happened to find handy — mainly hula hoops, gnomes and sparkly balls.

After a while (what seemed to be the duration of the entire Lord Of The Rings trilogy back to back), the strident group of gals finally left and I assumed that my evening was bound for improvement.  Regretfully, this was not the case.  The evening was drawing to a close and I began my very specific (OCD) process of closing down the gallery.  Mistakenly, I decided to change things up a bit and take the trash out through the back before finishing my usual closing ritual (nothing weird).  I locked the front door and headed out the back to dispose of the trash.  Just as the back door firmly clamped shut behind me, I remembered that it locks automatically.  Though I knew I was in a bit of a bind as my keys, purse and phone were locked inside, I remained level-headed (immediately started to panic, sweat and cry).  I quickly devised a reasonable plan (marching aimlessly down the street, sobbing, with a bag of trash), but soon came up with a slightly better solution — turning back, pitching the trash — more sobbing — then swiftly trotting towards my friend’s house who lives nearby.

I knocked on his door, calmly (long, steady, rapid knocks in between pacing back and forth, weeping) waited for him to come downstairs, and collectedly (hyperventilating — there was snot involved) presented my minor dilemma:  “I’m locked (huh-hee) out of the (huh-hee) gallery and have (snot) no phone (huh-hee) and (cough) no keys and (huh-hee) no car and (wheeze) no apartment (huh-hee) and no bunny (wheeze again) and no sushi — now we (more snot) can’t get (huh-hee) sushi.”  Fortunately my friend (who could  both breathe and form rational sentences) was able to contact one of my coworkers allowing me to once again have keys, a phone, a car, an apartment, a bunny, and sushi.

I am attaching Saturday by Electrelane as it was the song that happened to be playing in the gallery while the back door slammed behind me–hence, briefly ruining my life.


Share

Tags:

8 Responses to “ Notes From A Walkman Junkie:  Sometimes I Overreact  ”

  1. Jane Almirall on July 22, 2010 at 7:36 am

    I love that song.
    Also, I too was locked out of my apartment once – in Florence – though luckily I had just returned from a weekend trip so most of my stuff with me at the time. Everyone I knew was still away for the weekend, save one person who lived next to a park that was famous for having a stable of prostitutes loitering in it. I went to his apartment building to wait for him and was offered a small sum of money to perform some unsavory services – as my Italian was rusty, the gentleman had to resort to hand gestures and pantomiming….

  2. anncine on July 22, 2010 at 8:45 am

    Oh no….If the Italian gentleman’s skills in pantomiming were on par with mom’s that must have been quite horrific…vivid.

  3. Jackson on July 22, 2010 at 11:23 am

    “marching aimlessly down the street, sobbing, with a bag of trash…”

    you sometimes come to me in my dreams in such a manner. i miss the Electrelane playing in your car…good stuff. and the post, good stuff as well love. not the heap of snot, wheezing and coughing you thought.

  4. anncine on July 22, 2010 at 11:59 am

    I always appear in my own dreams the very same way. Thanks, doll (snot,wheeze,cough).

  5. Sara on July 22, 2010 at 12:45 pm

    One of my first picnic dates with Taki involved me packing a superb dinner of pasta salad and dessert and us heading to a nearby park…after I removed my apartment keys from my backpack, locked my door, and shut said door. Luckily, I had my Minnie Mouse and Daisy Duck credit card (extra plastic coating) and was able to jimmy open my apartment door in under a minute and a half. After being concerned with how easy it is to break into my apartment, Taki was pretty turned on by my feat. Remind me to teach you this trick when I see you next.

  6. anncine on July 22, 2010 at 1:19 pm

    The credit card jimmy trick is a good one to know…of course, I did not have a credit card on me.

  7. Nat Almirall on July 22, 2010 at 7:55 pm

    I can attest to the magnificent powers of the Double-Plastic card.

  8. anncine on July 22, 2010 at 9:16 pm

    I will just work on not being a jackass and locking myself out again.

Archives