Saturday, June 05, 2004
Why I Turn My Phone Off at Night
So I wake up this morning, at the god damn ass crack of dawn again, and I have 10 missed calls on my phone. Which means that one or more of the useless junkies I have for friends and family has gone off (or on, depending on perspective) the rails into heaving boozing and drug abuse, and has been calling me non-stop between the hours of 2:00-5:00am to tell me all about it.
I know it is nothing serious. I am not a person who anybody is going to call in an Emergency, at least not a legitimate emergency. I am not that kind of doctor.
As it turns out, the star performer last night was a very drunk Mr. A, who was later joined by my sister - slightly more under control - who had a brief cameo.
What follows is a transcript of the Mr. A voice mail.
All I can say is, thank god for caller id and cellphones, otherwise I would never get any sleep.
I know it is nothing serious. I am not a person who anybody is going to call in an Emergency, at least not a legitimate emergency. I am not that kind of doctor.
As it turns out, the star performer last night was a very drunk Mr. A, who was later joined by my sister - slightly more under control - who had a brief cameo.
What follows is a transcript of the Mr. A voice mail.
[Mr. A - very cranked up, and talking fast in a bad Al Pacino impression, sounding dangerously unsteady. Not likely to be served any more drinks at this point.]
What the fuck?
Where the fuck have you been? You son of a bitch.
[pause]
[Somewhat more toned down now, and speaking normally, but with a definite slur on.]
Call you later. Bye.
[pause]
[Unintelligible high pitched scream that sounds like "fuck" but may just be bar noise.]
All I can say is, thank god for caller id and cellphones, otherwise I would never get any sleep.
