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The day is new, I say one hundred times,
as I ponder past mistakes, like showing
up drunk to the funeral of my
ex-girlfriend’s father. He died of lung
cancer. She hated him, but still that
doesn’t excuse my behavior. It was her
father and that means something. He’d
met her mother as a photographer
taking pictures for Playboy. Still
whatever their relationship I shouldn’t
have been drunk and hit on her friend
who looked like Parker Posey. I fully
admit that even though we were in the
midst of breaking up that was a bad
decision, as was dancing at the
restaurant after the burial, even
though I felt a strong need “to get
this party started,” which I later
learned was not necessary or
appreciated. The day is new, I say.