3

This was the worst day of my life.

I kick off my Manolo/Payless pumps as I trudge into the apartment I share with my best friend, Aixa. After I suffered through the humiliation of Gorgeous Guy seeing me in all my smiley faced glory, and listened to Marlene's repeated stings disguised as “as a friend” isms (and why is it that only people who aren't your friend say “I'm telling you as a friend”?) I still had to agree to meet her for dinner Friday night before she'd let me get back to work.

“Ow! What the...?”

I hop around on one foot while grabbing for the other one. A needle. Beautiful. Aixa, my stunningly attractive best friend, housemate, and personal torturer has taken up needlework in addition to her job as massage therapist. Ok, it's not too bad having a massage therapist for a roomie, but having a roomie that is into needlework and is a slob is not so much fun. Not that I'm much better, but at least my hobbies don't involve sharp objects.

Brrrriiing!

I hop over to the phone, still clutching my foot. “Hello?”

“Good Afternoon, My name is mumble mumble and I'm calling from mumble mumble, may I please speak to... ah...ah...Ike-sa... Alza- nay-do?”

Telemarketer. “She's not here, can I take a message?”

“Um. Okay. She can call us at mumble mumble mumble. Thank you, goodbye!”

I hang up feeling pretty sorry for the guy. Aixa's name isn't exactly easy to pronounce if you've never heard it before, and telemarketing isn't fun. I've been there.

I remember my day. And I might have to go back to it.