Listen, I'm 30 years old and highly capable for the most part. So why am I still suddenly inflicted with the feeling of needing to throw up when I think about calling A Boy? I mean, really. Really. What is this? College? Wait, I had this problem after college too. Seriously, does that ever go away? I've said it before, and I'll say it again, and once again add no offense: I hate all of you for having husbands/boyfriends. Hey! Who wants to call this boy and pretend they're me? Also who wants to clean my room? These are reasonable requests, gals. Pony up.
OK now my fingers are starting to tingle. My body is going numb! If I don't call him I may end up in the emergency room! Then my apartment will never get clean...Augh. That's it! I'm joining the convent.
Take a shot a do it, Aly! Or in the infamous words of Traci a la our 2003 snowed-in trip in Minnesota: Buck the Fuck Up! Because you rock in such a highly convincing, hilarious, awesome number of ways that if New Work Crush didn't figure that out last night over the span of a beer then that is his bad. Literally. Yes, I think that is all they should get-one beer. Because that is exactly how long it takes to realize how amazing you are. Also, I will accept the time span of one coffee as a substitute is perchance one day your boy of choice happens to be teetotaler.
ReplyDeleteCalling a boy is scary, no matter how you slice it. That said, if anyone can do it with style, grace, and balls, it's you, Al. In fact, that should be the title of your memoir: Style, Grace, and Balls: My Life with Boys. And the last of the boys--the one-beer boy--will not mind your making a fortune off of this book.
ReplyDelete