Best Story EVER

I want to meet then hug the author of the story posted below. Honey I couldn't have said or written it better myself. "You wouldn't believe what happened last night... or worse yet, you would. Yes, perhaps the greatest tragedy is not the sequence of events, but the fact that they are nothing extraordinary. Not unusual, in the least. People make movies about things like this and then other people pay something stupid like eight whole dollars to go see those movies because they think they might be funny. Its weird. In the grand scheme of things, and I use "grand" coyly because if someone really is planning these turn of events then I don't ever want to talk to that person/god/angel/higher spirit/energy again and they are not invited to my 23rd birthday party, this crap happens every single day, to every SINGLE woman. No Mount Everest. No Hally's Comet. No Isreal-Palestine peace process. He just called. On the phone. Yeah, he like called me on my phone. My cell phone. I know. I freaked out. No I didn't answer... because what would I say when he asked me "so what have you been up to these past two weeks?" Well, let's think. I spent a lot of time in the beginning just walking around my bedroom, sobbing like a preschooler, and drinking cheap wine. Sometimes vodka, depending on the time of day or what kind of movie was playing on Lifetime. I blew off some really important scholarship applications, the first one on accident, and then the rest on purpose. Then, after a couple days, I managed to make it to some of my classes, which was good even though I daydreamed about kicking your ass the whole time and didn't learn a damn thing about macroeconomics. I Facebook-stalked, a lot. I called my sisters even more. I tried kissing an ex boyfriend, just to spite you, last Friday night... but it didn't go so well because he tasted like cigarettes and I was immediately bored. Um... things picked up a bit around Wednesday. I became so pissed that I downloaded a bunch of Pink's "man-hating" songs and successfully increased my workout to 6 miles, and my ass looks great. Thank you for that. I also joined a flag football team that I don't really want to be on, but it sounds good and I needed to tell my mother something positive, and.... um, I booked a flight to spend this weekend with my sorority sisters in DC. It's three of their birthdays and we have a lot planned... but really I'm just going because they don't know you, are dying to hear the stories, and will hate you simply because I'll ask them to and because its fun. So, all in all, things are going great. How was your past two weeks? Oh and, by the way, why haven't you called me? Like any other regular human being that converts oxygen to carbon dioxide and has the opposable thumbs needed to grip a cell phone and punch in a number. He called. And I no longer think that men deserve opposable thumbs unless they can muster the brain capacity and courage to use their thumbs to call when they're goddamn supposed to. And then after that point, if they miss that point, then someone should just cut off their thumbs and mail them to the poor girl, (the one sitting on the living room carpet because the sofa was too high, eating leftover, last-night ice cream out of the gallon that she neglected to even put in the fridge... so of course it has melted, but she's realized that she can still use a spoon to scoop out the cookie dough... you know the one) doesn't have to wonder why he hasn't called. And, what's better, the girl doesn't have to come to the conclusion that he hasn't called because "he doesn't like me" or "he must be really busy" or "he's been in that accident they talked about on the radio this morning" and instead can just relax and know that he hasn't called because he doesn't have thumbs anymore. And then she can smile because, he can't call anyone else either. Perfect. If you break it down to the simplest element, it was just a phone call. I know that. A phone call... who cares. But, its the PRINCIPLE of the thing. Do you know what I was doing when he called? You are going to cry. I swear to this. I had on a new apricot face mask, had finally painted my nails and was looking into my bedroom mirror and actually practicing how skinny I would be and what I would say to him next time I saw him... and then the phone rang. You have to be fucking kidding me. You know how people say that women have a "sixth sense" - something about motherhood and knowing when a child is hurt or sad. Likewise, I believe that men must also have a sixth sense - something about knowing when they are on the brink of being completely disposable and a woman has finally reached the point where she's saying "fuck you" ever so gracefully in the mirror, and so they call. My sister Courtney calls it Asshole Radar. What aisle in Best Buys or Bass Pro Shop do they find this radar at? Because someone should blow that aisle up. Anyway... I just thought you would enjoy some musings, at the expense of my dignity, and might want to reflect on how men are the most irritating creatures on the earth... and perhaps even beyond. Also, I would like to offer a toast, ever so humbly, to myself for not being the girl that it becomes "convenient" to call when things aren't going his way, the girl he can count on. He can count on me looking fantastic over thanksgiving. Flirting with his best friend. Not returning any phone calls. Wearing something lipstick-red and so tight that it looks like a super-strength adhesive must be holding it to my body. Having great news about an internship for the UN that I just landed in Geneva, Swizterland... I'll be leaving next week, even if I'm not really. Next week just always seems like the perfect time-frame. And, if I'm daring enough... he may also count on me saying "fuck you," not in the mean psycho-ex-girlfriend voice and not in the hurt you-never-called voice either, I'm going to use the sarcastic I-can't-believe-you're-wasting-my-time-by-even-trying-to-talk-to-me voice... the one that sounds like you're about to burst into laughter, in his face, but have so much dignity and self-control that you're able to restrain the hysteria. How cool, calm and collected. Like ice. And then I'm going to walk away... in extra tall high heels, of course".