Trinity Dub

That's right, buddy, I'm writing out a horrible new scenario for each day until the call. Think of it as a commercial literary exorcism for a nebbishy rapidly approaching 30 Asian with little to do and a lot of excess dopamine floating through his nigral striatum.

Scenario 3:
After making some headway on opening boxes, arranging my CD collection, setting up the entertainment system, I'll pick up my nifty Bang and Olufson phone and dial her digits. The phone will ring, I'll hear the click of the phone being picked up.

"Hi, this is L.A. Chick at Big Law. I can't take your call right now, so please leave a message, or dial 0 and ask for Random Woman, my secretary. Thanks."
"Hi L.A. Chick. This is Marty Stark. We met earlier this year, I was the Asian guy with the overcoat and encyclopedic knowledge of music. Anyway, I'm living in L.A. now, and I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime this weekend. My number is Westwood Digits. Catch ya later."
[Click]
I don't hear from her, and me being me, a small spark of hope still exists despite x months going by making me miserable.