The unlocked front door could only mean one thing: Jack was back. I froze. I couldn’t breathe. What was I going to say to this man who, only 12 hours ago, chose to end our six year relationship. A million thoughts ran through my head.
With the help of his a therapist, best friend and a Xanax prescription, a recently dumped Guppie rediscovers how to live out loud in the Windy City. Although inspired by a true incident, names have been changed to protect the guilty.
Showing posts with label Walgreens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Walgreens. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Avery Hearts Xanax, Part III
I nearly killed a woman when I arrived at Walgreens. I was so deep into my memories of meeting Jack’s parents, I accidentally walked directly into an elderly woman. She didn’t fall to the ground, but she was mad. The stream of obscenities that came from her mouth was enough to make Lisa Lampanelli blush.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Avery Goes to Lanford
“Hello?” I timidly said into my cell phone. Although I was hopeful that Jack would be on the other end of the line, I was also afraid to speak with him. What can you possibly say to someone who has told you that they’re no longer in love with you? Unfortunately, or luckily, I wouldn’t find out just yet.
You see, I have the unfortunate luck of having a telephone number that is extremely similar to that of a certain Rush Street restaurant. I’ve been politely redirecting callers to the correct number for nearly seven years. When this evening’s caller asked if I had a four top available for 9:30, I aloofly told her that we were closed for renovations. I was not in the mood helpful or polite.
Labels:
Avery,
cell phone,
Chicago,
doorman,
elevator,
Illinois Street,
Jack,
Lake Shore Drive,
Navy Pier,
Near North Side,
perm,
restaurant,
Roseanne,
Rush Street,
tourists,
Walgreens,
Xanax
Monday, April 18, 2011
Avery Hearts Xanax, Part II
Startled and disoriented are the two words that best describe how I felt when I awoke from my Unisom induced coma. The bedside alarm clock displayed 6:21 PM. I’d slept for nearly 10 hours. “What a crazy dream,” I thought to myself, “Can’t wait to tell Jack.” As I stepped out of bed, Bouncer, my black cat, yowled in the other room. A wave of panic set in.
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