trendymatt's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'll put that right down in my Palm Pilot, sir Dad finally called me. He gave me his new phone number, asked if Mom had filled me in on what happened (um, yeah, at some point in the last two weeks I guess she mentioned that you've been a lying, cheating ass to her for most of your marriage), and asked if I would help him move some furniture into his new house when I'm home this weekend. It was the most clinical, antiseptic, businesslike conversation I've ever had in my life. Yeah. Dad leaves my mother, blames her for the fact that he can't keep his dick in his pants, and then has the nerve to ask me to help move furniture into his new bachelor pad in our first conversation after the breakup. There was no remorse, no apologies, no emotion whatsoever. It was as if he were coordinating a business conference. Let's break this down mathematically, shall we? Days since last conversation: 14. Days since he left without a trace: 11. Total duration of today's conversation: one minute, 45 seconds. Does anyone else see a problem with these numbers? I am going to help him move some stuff in this weekend. But maybe that leather armchair of his might be so heavy that I end up dragging it up the driveway. Oops. 6:52 am - 08.21.03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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