If you're a hateful, piss and vinegar filled maniac like me or just a guy, there's one thing on this rocky planetary protuberance that you can't stand: talking on the phone. Here's something I get quite frequently: "Nick I TRIIIEEEED calling you and you didn't answer ME!!! WHAT THE FUCK MAN!?" Oh I'm sorry Mister President, I didn't realize the missiles were being fired while I was out filling up my life with the mere trifles I call an existence. I apologize that I don't sit in my lazyboy touching myself all day in the hope that you might decide to call my cell phone. Just because I have a cell phone doesn't mean you can reach me anywhere, anytime. I own a cell phone for my convenience. Not yours. Amazingly, I am not sitting around keeping my plate clear so that we can chat whenever you get the notion to call. I have a life. I occasionally go into cars, bathrooms, tunnels, the dentists, auditions, dwarf tossing competitions, great drunken debauches and other places I don't want to talk to you. That's why voice mail was invented.
If you get my voicemail, it does not mean I hate you. It means exactly what it says "leave a message and I will call back". That's not "hang up and I will psychically deduce it was you and call back in the next 3 nano-seconds". Calling six times in a row does not magically summon me. I am not a person who needs to have my mastication muscles constantly gabbing away into oblivion. I need my "me" time (after all I AM a scorpio. Oh yeah and fuck astrology too!)
So yeah I just felt like typing something and there it is. I could have just called someone to tell them all this but, well, you know...
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