Operator, well, can you help me make this call?
See, the number on the matchbook is old and faded.
She's living in L.A. with my best old ex-friend, Ray,
a guy she said she knew well and sometimes hated.
Isn't that the way they say it goes?
Well, let's forget all that.
And give me the number if you can find it
so I can call just to tell 'em I’m fine
and to show I've overcome the blow,
I’ve learned to take it well.
I only wish my words could just convince myself
that it just wasn't real, but that's not the way it feels.
Operator, could you help me place this call?
Well, I can't read the number that you just gave me.
There's something in my eyes.
You know it happens every time
I think about a love that I thought would save me.
Operator, let's forget about this call.
You see there's no one there I really wanted to talk to.
Thank you for your time.
You've been so much more than kind.
And you can keep the dime.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
I'm trying to keep Phoebe entertained while I work so she won't get bored and lick her leg off. Good Lord. Next thing you know, I'll be taking her to doggie daycare just to keep her from getting "bored." I just took their toy box out of the closet (yes, my dogs have a toy box, shuddup) and left it open. You should have seen them all three standing there with their heads in the box pulling out as many toys as they could. I've never done that before, but they sure liked it. Now there are stuffed toys and squeaky things laying all over the house.
I just cut the holy crap out of my finger trying to open a window. It slammed back down on my finger and cut a big gash in it. Worker's Comp! Social Security Disability! I can't type and make a living because my finger is hanging by a thread of skin! Okay, it's not that bad. But still.
I was opening windows because it's absolutely beautiful outside. It's a perfect temperature, sunny, and there's just the right amount of breeze. It makes me want to bake a pie and put it in the window to cool. Okay, that's a lie. I've never done that in my life. But still.
I woke up this morning with a Jim Croce song in my head and it won't go away. I keep catching myself singing it. You know what I think it is? I swear that our brains can receive radio waves and we can subconsciously hear it even though the radio is not on. I think that song was on the radio when I woke up.
No, you're stupid.