Tuesday, June 19, 2007


Me: Hey Mom. How's it going?
Mom: Great. We trimmed the bushes out front so it looks like we give a shit. You know that happens once every three years.
Me: Fun.
Mom: Well, I would like to come visit you soon but I can't seem to plan anything for the future.
Me: Why?
Mom: Because I don't believe in it anymore.
Me: Why?
Mom: Because I'm depressed because my mother is dead.
Me: Oh.
Mom: Here's your father.
Dad: Hi Anna. How are you?
Me: Good. (By the way a total lie.) Happy father's day.
Dad: Oh thanks. I had to buy my own cake today.
Me: You what?
Dad: Yeah. I was going to have them write to Carl on it but it seemed too sad so I just walked away.
Me: With the cake?
Dad: Yeah. Ha.
Me: Why don't you and mom come down here and cheer up? (Irony alert silently blaring in my head.)
Dad: I'll ask her about it.
Me: Why don't you just buy the tickets. You're a grown up. You can do it.
Dad: Well you know me. I've never been able to plan anything.
Me: Why?
Dad: Ha. Well I guess maybe I've never believed in the future.

photo: erin


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