9/9/2004 - Contact

Bek tells me that my quote from yesterday coming from my imaginary "type of woman I prefer" is, in reality, coming from a Golden Retriever.

I'm a sucker for that long blonde hair.

So I sent an email to the aunt today to ensure that my daughter is not, in fact, playing a cruel, heartless joke on her poor old dad.

Jodi: My dad is a very lonely, sad, broken shell of a man.
Friend: Aw. That's sad.
Jodi: Let's play a joke on him!
Friend: That would be great! Let's pretend that I have a beautiful aunt, and we'll pretend that we're fixing him up!
Jodi: And then we can watch him cry! His tears will bring us joy!
Friend: Bomb!

So now I'm listening to Lyle Lovett, thinking deeply about the disconnect in my life. Abbey Road, side 2. 1:00 am alcohol haze with heavy metal musicians. Studying accounting. Studying Texas Hold 'Em. Watching golf on TV. A big bottle of a vitamin B complex to counteract the fact that I'm getting old but still acting young. Are the mid-30's just another transition point, like the teens? Maybe life is just a series of transitions. Whatever. I'm digging it.