MSNBC Date Night
4:31pm: I grab my purse, car keys and cell phone from out of my desk drawer, turn off my computer, make a feeble attempt to find another person in the building to say goodbye to, and then, trying not to waste a precious second, march… no practically run out to my light blue Honda civic and mentally prepare for my date. It's Monday, nothing special, nothing extraordinary. But I have a date. It's with a man I admire and adore. You know the type: handsome, well spoken, eloquent, witty, sexy and many other countless other adjectives that are not mentioned here. Waaaaayyyy older than me, but that's water under the bridge. I pull out of my parking space and race against the other five o'clockers, or in this case, four thirty o' clockers, towards my exit off the 101.
4:38. the clock is ticking and time is naturally against me. We have a date. Five o'clock. No exceptions and no excuses. I am very conscious of the fact that my size 8 black work pants are pressing against my stomach in a most depressing manor. There hasn't been time for proper exercise and nutrition. Of course excuses are not going to get me those few extra inches, but in all fairness and honestly, I think it might be too late to do anything about it.
4:45. Fifteen more minutes baby. Every traffic light is against me and stop signs appear out of nowhere. White trucks, black cars, Harley Davidson's, everyone is going unnecessarily slow this afternoon. I merge. I break. I put the pedal to the metal. I swerve and break again until finally I make it to the home stretch. One U turn later and I am pulling into my parking space. I stop the car and absently mindly pull out a tube of lip gloss. I swipe some across my lips and quickly check myself out in my rearview mirror. I practice my come hither/bedroom eyes look. I think I got it down. I check my watch.
4:57. Shit. Three more minutes to go. Time waits for no one, and my date is no exception to the rule. I clip clop my way up the driveway, pull out my keys and attempt to open my front door. Damn! The key isn't working! I pull the key out, and try again. God Damn it! Nothing. I take a deep breath, count to ten and try again. Success.
4:59. I race up the stairs, pausing long enough by the bathroom mirror to check my reflection one last time. My left eye is smudgy, but there isn't any time to fix it. I open the door to my room, kick of my shoes, and flip on the TV just in time to here "Countdown, with Keith Olbermann begins right now…."
The End.