I had a brief conversation with my friend Megadeth tonight on the phone, about how boring we both are at the moment.
“This week,” I told her. “I went to bed at 10:00 every night. Plus? Fatty has started going to the gym again. And so she is sore.”
“This week,” Megadeth told me. “I worked and worked and worked until my head fell off, and then I worked some more. Also, I will be doing nothing but travel for the next three weeks.”
“I’m going to Austin on a business trip tomorrow.”
“I’m going to have to give my cat away, because I’m never going to be home again.”
“I haven’t opened my mail in three days.”
“I just ate ice cream for dinner, because it was all I could do to open the carton.”
Pause.
“So I’ll see you next week, when you’re in New York?”
“Yes. You better take me out.”
“It’s next week, right? Let me check my book.”
“I’m not fucking kidding. You better not be busy. It’s my birthday.”
“OK. Looks like I can squeeze you in after work and before my real plans start.”
“I hate you.”
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