By: Ann Brown
Do we know, exactly, what Anita Hill said back to Ginny?
Man, I wish I could’ve been on the extension phone, listening in. Or better yet, sitting next to Anita that morning, feeding her kickass shit to say to Ginny, writing it out on cue cards and laughing so hard that Anita and I pee in our pants.
Ginny would totally be, like, “um, who’s there with you? Is someone listening in? That’s mean, you know.”
And Anita and I would be, all, “no, YOU’RE the mean one.”
And Ginny would be, all, “nuh-uh, YOU’RE mean.”
And we’d be, like, “whatev, bee-yatch. C-ya”
And we’d hang up the phone really hard. And go to Baja Fresh for lunch.
And Ginny would sit there, still holding the phone in her hand and give Clarence a really dirty look, like, “I hate this chore wheel idea. Next time, I’ll clean the litter box.”
And Clarence would shrug and say, “Well, it was worth a try. Now call Christine O’Donnell and demand an apology. For being such a stone cold fox.” And he’d laugh and laugh until he brought up a hairball.
And Ginny would pour herself another Supreme Court Justini and prepare to face another day of warning Americans about the tyranny of government. Maybe two Justinis. It’s noon somewhere in America.
Yeah, fuck those two but, frankly, I think Ginny was on to something. I am going to ride this new trend of demanding apologies from people I’ve fucked over. I’m gonna ride it until the battery in my cell phone dies. Or I run out of gin, whichever comes first.
Now, let’s see…who owes me a long-overdue apology?
Oh, I know. Orbachs Department store.
When I was thirteen, I stole a pair of earrings there. My friends and I, fresh from Bat Mitzvah class, had my mom drop us off and we hit the jewelry counter. We hit it hard. And we hit it stupid, evidently, because we were caught. Orbachs totally owes me an apology for that. What is their phone number. What, they went out of business? Okay, then. I guess we’re even.
And you know who else should apologize to me? Janice L (not her real last name initial) from seventh grade. I started a rumor about her, said her father was in jail and she sucked her thumb. In my defense, she was running against me for class secretary and I was not popular and I needed an edge. So, Janice, any time you want to call…or send me a muffin basket or something…
It kinda reminds me of once when I was in the middle of a terrifying, life-threatening coughing episode, gasping for breath, Robin came into the room and said to me, “why don’t you ever remember that I have VERY sensitive ears? That coughing is really loud.”
Robin, I am sorry that my painful brush with death hurt your sensitive ears.
Was that too loud just now? Come closer, I’ll whisper it.
I know. You’re right. That was shitty of me. You owe me an apology for it.
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