Excuse me ma'am, are there roofies in your coffee?

I know I promised to be funny. And I am, trust me. However, life doesn't always feel like being funny and sometimes it's just downright shitty. You can choose to laugh about any situation, but real life doesn't always afford you those privileges - at least not at first. I have a good life, don't get me wrong. I am fortunate beyond belief and there are mornings I wake up and question whether or not I deserve to live this blessed life. I haven't done anything out of the ordinary, I'm no evangelist or Peace Corps member. I am a smartass and I'm tactless at times. I say things I don't mean and I mean things I can't always say (which is hard to believe, I know because I say SO much). I've come to the conclusion that maybe it's just the 'luck of the draw' and in the end, it's how you choose to deal with it. Some people can lie and steal and cheat their way to the top and wake up the next morning to the smell of coffee brewing, your wife and 2.5 children sleeping next to you in your mansion off West Paces. Or.... you can do everything perfect and by the book. You can visit Jesus every Sunday morning, feed your children organics and bible verses, call your parents, love your husband more than you love yourself and still wake up one morning to find him sleeping with the next-door neighbor. 

I make this last statement with a heavy heart because in my world, that is the reality for someone I know. She followed the rules, made the right decisions, cleaned her house, bathed her babies, made love to her husband. However, it just wasn't what someone - whom I like to refer to as God or, on occasion, the "Big Man" - had in mind. I'm convinced that He does things sometimes just to get a reaction out of us, to see how we hold up in the face of diversity and despair. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not putting her husband's bad decisions off on God..... Noooooo, no, no. God lets us make our own decisions, let me make that very clear. I'm just here to remind my friend (who will remain nameless) on a daily basis that what has happened to her isn't about her. It just is. And while she didn't choose these cards, they are still hers and she’s got to play her best hand. Some mornings she calls me and we laugh, some mornings she calls me and we cry, some mornings she calls me and we cry and cuss and bitch until we laugh. It's just what you do. 

This morning started out as a typical morning for us.... and I say typical meaning 'typical for the past couple days' because there really isn’t any more 'normal' or 'typical' in her world. It was a negative on the tears type of morning, an affirmative on the vulgar language and low blows. After our ritual of chatting for the 45 minutes it takes me to get to work, I shot her a BBM (that's 'blackberry message' for those of you non-blackberry owners). I was sitting at the stop light on the corner of the 120 Loop and Franklin Road, wondering when they were going to tear down that awful eye sore of a building that has sat there for years... and I looked over at the car next to me. 

Jess: "Can I just tell you how jealous I am of the (clearly) rich bitch in this Mercedes SUV next to me? She's just sipping her Starbucks, that she happens to be holding in her hand that also holds a 482 carat rock on it. Not a care in the world. Must be rough to be her."

Friend: "Don't be. Her coffee is probably cold and has roofies in it. Her husband slept with the babysitter last night while he was "working out". She is tired, but has to get up and go to work anyways because she is sleeping with the 80 year old CEO of her company just so she can drive that Mercedes. Her kids are sick with the swine flu, probably at home with the babysitter... same one who is sleeping with her husband. "

And this is how our morning fuel ended. In a fist full of laughter. It always does.