Don't Hate the Player

by Alexis Nedd

“Oh, wow,” he says, and from the crackle on his microphone, I think he’s letting out a breath he was holding for as long as it took for me to answer, “it’s you.” “Yes, I just told you.” “Sorry, yeah. It’s just weird communicating.”

This is how feel whenever I pick up the phone. Like, no matter who it is. YOU want to communicate with ME?

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says. “I mean, no, I wasn’t right then because it was really sticky and stuff, but I’m fine now. I showered.” He pauses, more to catch his breath than to think about what he’s actually saying. “I didn’t, like, only shower then; that wasn’t my only shower. I shower every day, so it’s not like that was my one shower and I’m done for the week.”

Channelling Marinette. I don't think I've ever met anyone who rambles at this level

He talks the way I think, nonstop and always trying to cover every possible interpretation of whatever he’s going to say.

Ooh, I can totally see that

MUDD: they put free red bulls in our room. i’ve had three so far MUDD: is it bad that i’m perceiving minutes as colors

Wow. Yes, very bad