Who The Hell Is Jennifer Eckhart And Why Is My Phone Bleeping

My phone buzzed. Again.

Fucking Google Trends.

'Jennifer Eckhart.'

Who?

Seriously. Who?

Another one of them. The names that pop up. Like pimples on a teenager's face.

Meaningless.

To me, anyway.

It’s 6 AM. Kids are still asleep. Thank fuck.

My head feels like a bag of rocks. Or maybe a bag of rocks got into a fight with a bowling ball. And the bowling ball won.

Last night.

That Jameson. It felt like a good idea at the time.

It always does.

Now I'm scrolling. 'Jennifer Eckhart.' What did she do?

I don't even care.

Some celebrity bullshit. Probably.

Or some scandal. They love a good scandal. The internet, I mean.

My life is a scandal. Every morning. Getting out of bed.

Another day. Another dollar. Another reason to pretend I give a shit.

I’m a dad. I have a job. I have responsibilities.

They don't care about Jennifer Eckhart.

They care about toast. And Minecraft. And if I remembered to buy milk.

I probably didn't.

Forgot to grab it on the way home from the pub. Too many 'just one more.'

Now I'll get 'the look.' From the wife.

Her silence is louder than any shout.

This Jennifer Eckhart thing. It’s just noise.

More noise for my already throbbing head.

Why do people care? Why is this a 'trend'?

My biggest trend is the slow, inevitable decline of my liver.

And my patience.

And my bank account.

Maybe she's a billionaire. Good for her. Doesn't help me buy milk.

Doesn't help this hangover.

Doesn't help me face the day.

It's just another distraction. Another thing to scroll past.

Another thing to remind me I'm not in on the joke. The big, shiny, online joke.

I'm just here.

Making coffee. Wishing it was whiskey.

Ignoring the bleeps. Pretending I care about 'Jennifer Eckhart.'

I don't.

I really don't.

Pass the ibuprofen. And for the love of God, someone tell me where the hell the milk went.