November 14, 2012
I had problems last night with my computer so I called for online support. The girl was asking me questions about my problem and obviously I was answering them. Then she says, “Are you wearing a dress?”
I said, “what?”
She said, “Oh sorry, never mind, that was…sorry, never mind” then she resumed asking questions.
I wanted to laugh so hard and I wanted to say “what the fuck did you just say???” I don’t even know how she got that question in there. It was either that she was communicating with someone else online telling her what to say to me or it was one of those books or online programs for sales people or for people like her who give services where it’s an A leads to B leads to C or D and all that.
So…what I want to know is…how was that question birthed?
Was it a prank?
Was it a freaky kind of typo?
Finally I realized I hadn’t listened to a word she said for like the last two minutes because I was so preoccupied with trying not to laugh. At first it was quiet and I was muffling the phone and really trying to stifle it.
Then I burst out with a big freakin’:
Then I hung up because there was no point to that conversation anymore.
I drank a few beers really quick and went to the store to buy myself cigarettes because I just felt like smoking and I wanted to buy some whiskey. I bought Jameson’s mmmmmm that’s some nice stuff. I got the money from Sharly yesterday because I asked her if I could have a little advance for the pay at the end of the week, because I said I needed some food. I meant it at the time but yeah, now Jameson’s is my nourishment. The entire way to the store I was laughing about this girl. That’s always a source of entertainment to people, to see someone all alone out in public occasionally doubling over with laughter for no apparent reason.
So I decided once I left the store that I needed to keep walking. By the time I finished the bottle, which was not my intention, I was at Emma’s. This was all after work, so I think I got to Emma’s by 10:30. Emma’s been taking evening classes to work towards her Master’s so she wasn’t home.
Seems a little late for an evening class, but I’m not sure how the classes run, she’s told me before but I guess I wasn’t listening when I should have been, or as much as I thought I was, or whatever. Still seemed late, so I waited at her door, completely cocked off my ass. I sat there smoking and then I started alternating between singing Italian songs and laughing hysterically about that girl on the phone.
I don’t know how long I waited there, but a car pulls up and Emma gets out just as the upstairs neighbor finally grew tired of my singing and laughing, and stuck her head out the window and said, “Could you just shut up please? Some of us are trying to sleep. Some of us have to work in the morning!”
I said, “oops” because I’m an idiot and that’s all idiots can say in those kinds of situations.
Emma looks at me with this hatred she’s never targeted at me before. She walks up the front steps to her first floor apartment door on the porch where I was sitting. I said “Hey you look nice” which is a stupid thing to say when people come home from evening school. And…she yelled at me, in a quiet kind of yelling because she probably didn’t want to disturb her neighbors any more than I already did.
I don’t remember much of what she said but she basically told me I need to get my shit together. I spent the night, was puking all night, I guess she took care of me. I woke up at 10:30 to the loudest alarm I’ve ever heard, which I’m sure Emma set for me and put specifically beside my head so I’d wake up and not miss work. Anyway, though the events of the evening are unclear, one thing’s for certain, Emma thinks I’m a loser and so if I don’t straighten up, I’ll never have her. I went there to find out why she was pissed at me, and I find out that maybe it’s not what I did, maybe it’s just who I am.
Now I’m at work, got here amazingly early, and I keep having to go into the bathroom to puke. This woman came in with a little girl drinking a juice box and the pale green color of the box turned my stomach. The little girl saw me looking at it, held it up and squeeked “fruit punch!”
I said meekly, “…great…” then I went off to puke some more.
While I was sitting on the floor by the toilet holding my stomach because it was beginning to hurt now that I started dry heaving, I thought to myself about how this all began because online support asked me if I was wearing a dress.
I know it’s deeper than that and goes back further than that, but whatever. I wonder what she would have said, if I responded with, “why yes I am, how did you know?”
Whatever, anyway you look at it, my computer’s still broken.
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