I've Got to Stop Calling Those 1-800 Numbers

Normally, when I know that I've screwed stuff up pretty badly, I'm pretty calm about it.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my fucking gosh. What in the world did I just do?"

Sike.

I was on the verge of having a panic attack and let me tell you something, my panic attacks are not pretty.

I had just bought a human being. I had just bought a human being that was famous. Plus, I had just bought a human being that was famous on my dad's credit card. Sure, $9.95 wasn't a lot but dad's a tight-wad. Oh goodness! I can only imagine what he's going to say when he finds out that I've bought someone.

I think I'm going to be sick.

"Hello? Ma'am? Are you still on the line?"

Great, I'm going crazy too?

Wait, no. That's just the phone.

"Uhm, yes. I'm still here." Physically maybe, but mentally, my mind was chillin' with Tupac and a bottle of Bacardi.

"Ms. Jerome, we just need to inform you that since this is a once in a lifetime purchase, you cannot refund your purchase back. You'll have your purchase sometime in the next twenty-four hours. Thank you for shopping at - "

I dropped the phone. I didn't need to listen anymore. But do you want to know what freaked me out even more?

The doorbell rang.

Good grief.