Breaking Up Is Hard to Do
So I happen to be an excellent jumper. I’m not kidding. Amazing! Ask my husband. I can take these great big World-Record-setting leaps to reach completely unlikely conclusions on the other side of the globe that are also often in the way distant future if they were to ever occur anyway which is never.
After publishing my last post, my Dear John letter to a dear John, my husband’s work buddy David dropped my husband a note. David lives in Chicago (and is also a loyal blog reader and therefore a Pepper – wassup, David!) and wrote that it just so happens he was in the same class in school with John Cusack’s sister Joan.
Would I like him to try to get my Dear John blog post in front of John?
- Within two seconds of reading those words, I swore I was having heart palpitations.
- Within twenty seconds I had imagined John sitting in his house, checking his email and receiving a link to my blog post (RE: Get a load of this blog).
- Within two minutes I had imagined John already read it and was picking up the phone to call me.
- Within fifteen minutes I had decided that when the Made-For-TV movie of my life is made – and yes it will be made, starring Soleil Moon Frye in all eras of my life beginning at age 4 – I will have to remember everything of how this phone conversation with John played out.
I will have to write the script. I will have to start now. And with that I immediately began the following imaginary conversation exactly as I anticipate it to occur.
[Ring . . . Ring . . . Ring]
Me: Yo. [Just for dramatization purposes, pretend I answered with “Yo.”]
John: Yes, I’d like to speak with Angie Zuh Zuh Zamahzaaaa. . . is she around?
Me: Yeah, I’m Angie, and I don’t think we want to sign up for that this year.
John: Hey, Angie. I’m John Cusack. Guess what, I just happened upon a break-up letter you wrote to me on your blog. Ouch!
Me: Huhhhhh . . . meeeh . . . waaah? Huhmehwah?
Me: Peanut Butter. I have a dog named Peanut Butter. Yes. And two cats. Minnie Moo and Matilda Mae. [When my daughter was younger, she’d fill in any uncomfortable conversation pause by naming off her pets. It worked well for her. And now it just feels right here.]
Me: Peanut Butter. I mean . . . I’m eating my lunch.
John: Is this a bad time?
Me: Oh, no! No, no, no! Noooooooooooo.
John: So what did you have against my movie Martian Child?
Me: Oh, no! No, no, no! Nooooooooooooo.
John: What do you have against autistic kids?
Me: No, I never even saw that I mean I heard it was not as good as some of your other really fine movies and I mean no I’d never say I don’t like no oh God no I mean some of my best friends are autistic kids.
Me: Matilda Mae. Minnie Moo. Peanut Butter.
John: Well, what movies of mine do you like?
Me: Oh, that’s hard for me to say I could never The Sure Thing. No question. The Sure Thing. Hands-down. No contest. I ate fried pork rinds for a month after I saw that just to feel close to you I mean because they contain the recommended daily allowance of riboflavin. You know, like you said in the movie? I mean, like Gib said?
Me: And then after that would probably be Better Off Dead and then Say Anything. Oh, man, every woman in America probably says Say Anything. I’m so completely basic and generic I can’t believe I just said Say Anything when I could’ve said anything. Oh, isn’t that funny that I sort of just then quoted the you see what I did there? And then probably Being John Malkovich followed by Serendipity and then High Fidelity but you were such a jerk in that one so I don’t . . .
[In Your Eyes ringtone breaks in.]
Me: Waaaaaaassss that? What that on was phone song? I love that song.
John: Oh, well that’s my agent trying to get a hold of me. I better take it. I just wanted to say that your writing wasn’t bad. Not bad at all. Keep up the good work. Keep writing, write every day, and then start submitting your work to colleges. I’m sure your school guidance counselor can help you with that.
Me: Oh, no. Noooooooo. Oh, you thought no I’m not in high schoooo would you perform at my prom?
John: I’m sorry?
Me: My prom? Would you play at it? You know, like how when celebrities stop in and perform at their fans’ proms like Bon Jovi or something and I think he did that once or maybe it was Kiss oh that’s so stupid because you probably don’t even play an instrument oh except for the saxophone I don’t even know what I’m even talking about how stupid I sound.
John: Oh, do you like Kiss?
Me: Who? Well it’s just stupid because I’m not even in I don’t even have a prom. Well I mean I did and it was really lame and there was this big staircase thing and the theme was Stairway to Heaven and we had this cardboard staircase thing we built in our gym that you couldn’t actually climb but it looked like you could and a couple of people tried to and . . .
John: Yeah, well I have to get back to my agent now, but it was really nice talking with you, Amy! Keep on plugging away with your blog, keep studying and maybe you can someday be a famous writer. And I hope you have fun at your prom!
Me: Thank you oh God thank you soooo soooo much for calling and I’m not really going to my prom because it was really lame with the staircase thing . . .
Me: I love you. Can’t we just try to work this out?
People who like this blog post might also like the time I wrote about my actual meeting with my other imaginary boyfriends, the Nelson twins (here).
That teen idol encounter didn’t go quite as well.