HIM: My car died. It’s something electrical, My mechanic can’t get to it until Monday, I have to work tomorrow, I have school on Monday, I wanted to surf with Tucker on….
ME: Relax, take a breath, just drive my car.
HIM: I hate driving your car.
ME: My car is great.
HIM: It’s a mid-life crisis car. It’s embarrassing.
ME: People love my car. Your car could bore an oak tree to death.
HIM: You know who loves your car? Teenagers and 20-somethings.
ME: It’s NOT a mid-life crisis car.
HIM: A red convertible? Seriously? it’s SO mid-life crisis.
ME: Becoming a doctor was my mid-life crisis thing…
HIM: You don’t understand mid-life crisis. When someone has a mid-life crisis they replace something age-appropriate with something ridiculous…. like getting rid of their Mercedes and buying a Mustang Convertible.
ME: I was tired of Mercedes,
HIM: Mid life crisis..
ME: No it wasn’t. Becoming a doctor was the mid-life crisis thing.
HIM: That makes NO sense.
ME: I was a hedonistic model/actor/writer/drunken-drugged-out social enigma… correct.
HIM: You left out compulsive shopper, bulimic, Internet Porn Addict, but close enough..
ME: Whatever… but can’t you see becoming a doctor was the only outrageous thing I could do.
HIM: OMG that makes sense… this is REALLY scary.
HIM: Words are coming out of your mouth that make sense to me. I need a drink.
ME: I’ll make you a Janis Joplin.
HIM: What’s a Janis Joplin?
ME: 1/2 a fifth of Southern Comfort and a couple of barbiturates
HIM: Hard liquor and barbiturates? Are you Insane?
ME: No… I’m just not quite back from Woodstock yet.;