My friends are deliciously evil to me, and I must share.
Friday night I arrive home after my trip to Phoenix. It was sort of a long day for me, and though I was mentally and physically tired, I just couldn't sleep. I popped on the idiot box, sat cross legged on the couch, put a glass of milk in front on me, and tippity tapped away on my laptop. At about 11:59 the phone rings-the main theme from the Halloween movies eerily creeps from my cellular. Who the hell is calling me at this hour, I viciously think to myself. I let the call go to voice mail. I did not recognize the number and I never answer calls from anyone I do not know. I check the message and here is what delightfully trips into my ears...
This guy sounds like a riot. I totally remember meeting a guy and giving him my number on Saturday night, but I don't quite remember all the details. Like the message said, I was drinking a lot of vodka-gotta do it up for girls night. I don't recall dancing really with anyone, and I certainly don't remember anyone I may have danced with being southern. I figure that I will call him back sometime the next day and we can chat. I continue about my business. About twenty minutes later, the second phone call came in...
That is it, I must meet this guy. How could I not be intrigued? Did you just listen to the messages? I don't care if he has a a third nipple, only one eye and a butt chin. I can teach him to brush his teeth if I need to. Where have you been all my life you wonderful ball of crazy. I call back the number from my caller ID. To my woe, all I get is a generic voice mail. I leave the message that I was all set to go in my pajamas. *sigh* Perhaps he will call me one last time tonight. Eh, I am probably better off if he doesn't call. It is after midnight and I am so tired.
Will this boy call Robyn back? Does he really have deer pajamas? Why doesn't it concern her that he might be a crazed serial sex offender? Check back tomorrow for the next installment...
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