So my life really is a movie. I mean, where else is all this shit going to happen but in Hollywood? I can see the storyboard now: lonely girl in big city, makes up imaginary dog, almost kills herself, then is saved by...

See, you thought I was going to say a knight in shining armor (or a shiny sports car, take your pick). But no, I'm saved by my Mother, technically. I'd just bought a bottle of whiskey from the middle-eastern guy at the liquor store and was settling in for a nice evening alone. When the phone rang. It had to have been 2 or 3 in the morning at home, but my Mom called. Funny thing was, I didn't know why she called until we got past all the formalities and she asked me how my birthday went. Two days ago. So not only did I forget my birthday but my own mother forgot it. And as I'm eyeing the liquor and pills sitting on the counter next to me because not only is my life screwed up but so is my family's on the other side of an ocean who I've been trying to get away from for almost 6 months now, I realized something. The woman on the other end of the line, who must be drunk out of her mind to be calling me this late, is nothing. This city, town, slum, is nothing. But by taking myself out of it I'm not solving anybody's problems. So I make some lame excuse to go, not that she'll remember it in the morning, and pick up the yellow pages.