My Boy Jesus Christ I’m Hanging Up


The wife’s having a baby in maybe like half an hour. In my pocket is a Post-It listing all the people I should call. Mom, work, etc. Also in my pocket is an Excedrin PM and a gas station receipt. On the back of the receipt is the number of a girl I was very extremely in love with for most of high school and part of college. She liked the same albums I did.

I’m killing time in the waiting room and decide to give her a call. FYI we haven’t spoken since Bill Clinton was president and anything seemed possible. She answers and I’m all: Hey there do you still like The Wedding Present? And she instantly knows who it is and as usual says the perfect thing: Oh hi are you still an only child?

I ask her what I should name a kid if I was hypothetically having a kid right now, and she says: Jesus Christ I’m hanging up right now because I still have some self-respect. And I say OK whatever you say and now it’s seven years later and my son comes home from school all crying, saying the kids make fun of his name, and I’m like: Suck it up, junior, nobody ever said this life’d work out the way you thought.

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I play bass, I cook, I look out the window. Sometimes I prefer wondering what's out there to going out and looking. But not all the time. I only recently learned that leaving two spaces after a full stop is obsolete.

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