Letter to an asshole
October 2, 2002 - 2:43 am
Dear asshole,
That number that you keep calling? It’s our home phone number, not a fax number. Here at our home, it’s almost three in the morning. You, calling with your stinking junk fax at this hour, can go straight to hell. Asshole.
P.S. Junk faxes are illegal, asshole.
(I bit the very tip of my tongue straight off while eating dinner earlier.)
October 2nd, 2002 at 3:48 pm
Oops. That was me. And I wasn’t faxing, I was just emitting bleeps and bloops into your line.
Sorry about that. Won’t happen again.
(Seriously, though: at one point in my old place, the phone would ring loudly every hour, on the hour — and then every half hour. I replaced the phone, and all of a sudden it didn’t do that any more. It was so weird.)
(And also: HI! I feel so bad about only starting to read you now. There’s gonna be some catchup here, damnit.)
October 2nd, 2002 at 3:53 pm
So, those words that are just on the tip of your tongue – no more? Lost forever? That’s awful…