“I don’t get why this is so fucking difficult.” That was the gist of my daughter’s text message to me last Saturday morning. What was it that was so fucking difficult? A new transmitter for her diabetes monitor still had not shipped and without the transmitter the monitor was just useless hardware. Monitors can give …
You passed them by as they left and you looked the other way, awkward, nothing to say. They were already gone, ghosts who’s memories haunted the productions lines.
As a matter of pride I wanted to be successful but I found that in the end I prefer family time, weekends and holidays, regular hours and yes, regular sex.
I apologized to Jason and asked him if he would be so kind as to turn off the convoy of Lyft drivers converging on my house.
No less than the President of the United States proclaimed, “Shaken, not stirred, will get you cold water with a dash of gin and dry vermouth. The reason you stir it with a special spoon is so not to chip the ice. James is ordering a weak martini and being snooty about it.”
Not only did I not get a date with Lucy Liu the prompt took me, to quote Sir McCartney, on a “long and winding road.”
