Posted on | June 20, 2013 | 12 Comments
So some of you may know this and some of you may not, but I’ve been dating some. And also I’m a train wreck. These two things are not mutually exclusive, though I so wish they were. A while ago, I got set up with a guy by mutual friends. I won’t go in to all the details because they are not all that important. Suffice to say, we’re still talking as of the time of this post and on Tuesday, I got this wild idea to send him something, you know… a little token to say “What’s up, I’m thinking about you.”
This guy works at a bank, and so among the other little things we joke about, I sometimes refer to him as George Banks, from Mary Poppins. Since that’s sort of an inside joke, I decided what better way to say “hello” than to send him one of those cute little table top money trees. You know the ones I’m talking about, right? They’re sort of Zen-ish looking? In a black tray? Like this:
So I call up a local florist and explain that I want to send a money tree to this guy, with a charming little note. They say okay and I go on with my day, feeling very proud of how freaking thoughtful and adorable I am. Around lunch time, I get a call from the florist saying they are, in fact, out of “money trees” but they have something similar though a little bit bigger. I don’t think much of it, because I didn’t pay all that much for said money tree, so I say “that’s fine” and go on with my day.
Until about 5pm when I get this text from the guy. It seems they delivered my order.
It seems the world is hell bent on making me into a total and complete jack ass.
Remember what I ordered? That cute, adorable, table top money tree? Yeah. This is what the florist delivered:
Oh yeah. I got game, folks.
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