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Like I don't have enough to deal with, or, Never Speak French at the Dunkin Donuts Drive-Thru
July 18, 2005 | Category: In My Life
The $250/hour psychiatrist put me on something called Lexapro. I've been on it 3 days and I can tell you, it clearly sucks rocks. I have not had any epiphanies. I do not see any light at the end of the tunnel. Or, if I do, I still believe with all my heart that it is a train come to smash me.
My little house is still a dangerous warren of chaos. Just yesterday, my son got a scratch on his tummy from smashing into a computer in the middle of the den and a bruise under his eye from frolicking in my bed (*ahem* possibly a tickle fight) and bumping himself on my desk -which is crammed up next to the mattress.
So it was with my continuing "running on empty" personality that I decided to tangle with Dunkin Donuts this morning. Not that I knew I was "running on empty" until recently, but now that I do know - well, it's my excuse du jour thank you very much.
All I wanted was an iced coffee and a plain croissant.
DD Drive-thru lady: "Football?"
Me: "Pardon? uh, no. I'd like a croissant (Kwa-sahn)."
DD Drive-thru lady: "Roll?"
Me: "Croissant!"
DD Drive-thru lady: "Donut?"
Me: "CROIS-SANT!"
DD Drive-thru lady: "Hot cross bun?"
Me: "Is this thing on? I want a CROIS-SANT!"
DD Drive-thru lady: "Please pull around!"
Me (at the window, pointing at the picture): "CROIS-SANT!, CROIS-SANT!"
DD Drive-thru lady: "Oh! You mean a crescent roll! Gosh, that accent of yours!"
I am SUCH a dumbass.
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