Weird Phone Calls
About the previous post, I did want to say more, but I was trying to get the post done before the next day so it would only look like I missed one day instead of two. It didn’t work, because I missed it by less than a minute. Pff.
I got three weird phone calls yesterday. Or, I should say, messages, because they were left on my answering machine.
The first was from no other than Sean “P. Diddy” Combs. I kid you not. Puff Daddy called my house and left an urgent message. It said that there were a lot of important issues hanging in balance right now and that I should VOTE OR DIE. I should probably mention at this point that yes, it was a recording. And I hate “P. Diddy” and his stupid fucking names. But he called me.
The second was Tesheeka’s grandmother, I think. Tesheeka is my former roommate. At this point I should probably mention that it is not unusual for her grandmother to call. However, Tesheeka has a cell phone (which is what g-ma usually calls) AND my answering machine explicitly states that I no longer live with Callie and Tesheeka, so if you’re trying to get ahold of them, you’re out of luck. Why would you leave a garbled, mumbly message to someone that lives 25 blocks away from who you’re trying to contact?
The third was one of those “I’m drunk so I will call all of the people I have ever hooked up with and try to talk to them” message. Again, my answering machine states that I DO NOT LIVE WITH CALLIE. This confused person mumbled a drunken message about “please come to the hotel” something about hooking up with somebody (her? someone else?) and said that he was thinkin’ about her, and that they should have continued *garble garble* and “remember how sweet it is.” WTF?
Ever since I moved I’ve been getting a million hang-up messages on my answering machine. I guess that’s because they listen to the whole message about who I do and do not live with and then decide to be intelligent and NOT LEAVE A MESSAGE FOR THOSE PEOPLE. A while ago I had a message from some wacko looking for Lauren or something. He had to sit through the whole answering machine message in order to leave his message, but somehow failed to realize that I stated who I was, which is not Lauren or whoever he was looking for. It makes no sense.
Speaking of making no sense, sometimes Daniel and I will joke about how the other makes no sense. The other day, he was talking about something that sounded really absurd, so I told him he made no sense and he replied, “Well, you make TWELVE sense!” as if sense was “cents.” The thought of making only twelve cents on the scale of “impossibly unrealistic” to “coherent” seemed really really funny to me.
And yes, the “Karate Zombie” movie is done, but no, you won’t be able to see it for a while. None of us knows how to properly compress video for output on the internet. I know enough to be dangerous, but not enough to know what I’m doing. But eventually I hope to have a downloadable quicktime version for people to look at.
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