This weekend, Erin moved into a dope house in a part of the city that doesn’t play “Knockout King”. And if she’s reading this, it means she survived over 48 hours without the Internet.
I can’t get her a gift because I’m poor at the moment (or rather, I’m saving surgery money to prevent poorness) so I thought I’d get her the next best thing: the opportunity to laugh at me.
Guess what, Erin?
I had a super shitty day at work, so I walked to my favorite deli to get a sandwich and the chunky teen guy who always flirts with me was working.
While I was patiently waiting for Kate to make my Veggie so I could go home and drink daytime beer like a lady, this dude was lingering at the register and eyeing me.
Don’t talk to me, I prayed as I intently (and sincerely) studied the cheeses behind the counter, just don’t.
“Do you…” he started, and glanced at a quarter in his hand.
“… magic tricks?”
Yup. Bad day, hungry, tired–and now forced to weakly “ooh” and “aah” for five minutes as homeboy bends the quarter with his mind and irresistible swag.
This is the day I have been given.
This is my gift to you.