If a ten-ton truck kills the both of us

Heyyyyyyyyy. How’s it been going?

Yeah? Me too!

I cradle my face in my hands (pictured, below). I sip my drink and moan softly.

Then I get up at 5 a.m., and I go to a gym. They play The Smiths and Depeche Mode with some regularity, so it must be a gym for senior citizens. I walked in for a tour a few months ago, and “There Is a Light That Will Never Go Out” came on. I became resigned and handed over my credit card. I was asked about my “goals,” and I replied that they were more existential in nature, but not seeing any ugly people while at the gym would be a good start. They assured me that this would be the case. I was heartened when they told me they only make promotional t-shirts in XS and XXS. Then they told me I was skinny fat and yelled at me.

While I have been attentively strengthening my hip flexors and drinking vodka at noon for actual work-related purposes, Lambchop has fled the country. She has a show called Red Room opening in Dusseldorf. I wish I could have gone, as I am always so proud of my Lambchop. She won’t let me come to the gynecologist with her anymore because I won’t stop cheering. Heaven knows how I might embarrass her in a town like Dusseldorf!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to drink a bottle of wine and prepare for Sunday anxiety.

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