Today is a Monday. I hate Mondays. Who likes Mondays? Fucking no one. Except maybe the Pope and the Dalai Lama. 'Duh!'
Mondays always give me the blues... the dumps... the worst hangovers of my life and apparently, (I conclude while browsing thru my IG and messages) it also churns out the skankiest and nastiest blind items ever.
Undeniably, I decide that the snoops in this country are very religious. Yes, they are strict Catholics. They observe Sabbath faithfully, maybe.. hmmm.. let's see, they spend Saturdays brunching with their family (or going to concerts and catching people like me making out with girls), and Sundays spreading the Good News (or doing a mini-mini-mo game to choose which tabloid to send the scoop of me kissing an ugly girl (hey, blind item's words, not mine)). And Mondays? It's thrash day. The crazies dump their thrash on this day.
I let out a frustrated growl, tossing my phone on the bedside table and missing. It crashes to the floor with a soft thump. Silently I thank the interior designer of this condo for covering my room's floor with a thick black carpet.
I cover my face with a pillow and growl as loud as I can. " Fuck my liifeeee!!!!"
My phone makes a loud buzzing, 'And so it starts' I think to myself, tapping the green circle, "Caryl." I say, I already know who it is. She sent me 21 messages this morning, called me 18 times, who else will it be?
"James. Where are you?" her voice is calm, and this surprises me a little. She's always on a beast mode on times like this. " I've been calling you dear, you were not answering? The service driver is on its way to pick you up. Take a cold shower, drink some Advil, make yourself decent and get your ass in here." See? What'd I tell you? Beast mode.
"Ca, I can explain. It's not what-" but she doesn't let you finish.
" I don't really care, dear. All I care, is that you're late. Nadine is on her way. They changed the location, out of town. Did you read my messages last night? Oh, right. You were busy." Beast mode thru and thru. I let out a smile at her veiled jab. "Get here fast James. You know, Boss V don't appreciate tardiness." I sprint to the shower at this. I don't know, the boss' name scares the shit out of me. Maybe, my friends can use his name the next time they need to move my drunk ass.
Ten minutes later, and I'm sitting on the couch in front of the tv, already dressed up and a bit sober.
Sucking on my hangover cure (a green frosty, yes, frosty, that stick of frozen heaven that you can only buy in sari-sari stores when you were a kid), I go through the 60 (or more) messages received just this morning. Wow, didn't know I had this many 'friends'.
'Dude, saw the picts, you should've brought me' - Brent. Yeah, like he didn't leave you hanging coz he had a date.
'James, I called you.. I'm here for you.' - Alecca. Sure love, if we weren't fooling around last month.
' Hey baby..call me, I'm worried. You don't deserve this.' - Natalia. Hey, didn't she tell me I'm not her type a couple of days ago?
'Who is that bitch? I'm gonna cut her eyes out!' - Maureen Who the hell is this girl? I don't know any Maureen. As far as I know anyway.
'Bro, pack is ready to attack. Just text location. Hungry for some tainted meat.' - Ivan. This cracks me up, oh man, Ivan you're my man.
I keep scrolling down, ignoring even the message from the 'ugly' girl I was reportedly kissing. I can't help but feel more and more annoyed as I don't find the name I was looking for. Nothing. I check again to make sure I didn't miss anything but even the message I sent her last Saturday remains unanswered.
