The mail has been running along the lines of "What did the Chinese ever do to you?" Then last night, friends started doing interventions. "You've been deep, and very heavy lately." "Are you depressed?" "Well, yes," I'd respond to everyone.
I'm not that smart, but I do listen well. I knew what to do in this case. I have two numbers that are at the beginning of my cell phone, ICE 1 and ICE 2, where ICE means 'In Case of Emergency'. The first is my wife, and the second is The Mist1 International Consulting Agency, Inc 800 Emergency Line. Whenever things get a little out of hand, and I can't deal with it myself, I call in one of the pros at Mist. My fav is an Amazonian red head. I know because she sent me her card. She's Mist 39. Over time, and a few 'situations' we have developed a relationship. We work well together. Exceptionally well, as a matter of fact!
I have also worked with Mist 57, a nice woman from Boise, Idaho, and Mist 29 and 30, two guys from Peru. But I have to admit, I work better with women, and I have really settled in with Mist 39. She's my Mist! Not just anyone can say that either. It helps if you can keep some ahi tuna in the fridge with clean chop sticks. And have a black American Express Card.
Back to the story as originally conceived. I had gone over the edge, what with the Chinese and the car bombs in London, I had had it. I was a cooked fritter. I had lost my sense of humor. I put in an emergency call to My Mist at extension 39. I told her everything, and I mean EVERYTHING. My expert consultant recommended a retail shopping experience. She suggested i go buy underwear, as I'd feel oh so much better afterwards. I asked her how I'd know if I had the right pair? she said to walk up to a guy and if he couldn't form a sound, I had the right pair.
There are some problems when you get consulting over the phone. I was told earlier today that I now look like Clemenza from "The Godfather". Must be the weight loss, I used to look like Lucca Brazzi. If I walk up to a normal guy in a store and ask him about my underwear, there's going to be some problems, and they will happen immediately. The guy will either crap his pants or have a heart attack, or both. Unless he's armed or bigger than me, or both. So, for the sake of public health and safety, I call my friend Richard. Not only is Richard gay, he used to be an underwear manufacturer.
We started our quest for underwear at Bob Evans. We ordered blueberry pancakes with bacon and coffee. As Richard explained, underwear shopping can take a whole lot out of you, so we would bulk load some carbs for the endurance part of the test ahead. I couldn't finish my pancakes, I'm not used to eating that much.
Onwards to the discount mall in Hagerstown! We arrived at the Jockey outlet, and I went right to the 30% off rack. I picked out a package of three in all black, and a package of three in red, blue, and grey. I held up a black pair in front of me and asked the blond salesgirl what she thought. she liked the way I looked. so I bought all six. I spent the rest of my time discussing Piaget with her since she was majoring in Early Childhood Education. Then Richard came in and asked why I had bought the black pairs. I told him because the blond liked them. He suggested martinis.
We spent the rest of the afternoon sipping martinis. And I have six new pair of underpants in assorted colors, and a blond that likes me in black. And I had my attitude adjusted.
Ed. Note: Neither Mist1 nor The Mist1 International Consulting Agency has approved or is aware of this post. Use of their names is completely unauthorized. Please don't tell either of them.