Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.

8.13.2005

And the horse you rode in on.

Dear Jerkwad,

I don't know if you're aware of it or not, but this is Saturday. And I don't know if you were aware of it or not, but it was 6:42 AM when you called this domicile. As in, before seven AM. On a Saturday. Perhaps you are aware that normally the residents of this home keep rather odd hours. Mr. G. Monkey often works until 3:30, or even 4:30 in the morning. Rarely is he awake voluntarily at a quarter to seven in the morning. G. Monkey? While she is an early riser, most certainly would not be awake at 6:42 in the morning on a Saturday. And when you called this morning to wake me up, I was considerably less than thrilled.

After the first five rings, I resolved to ignore you, thinking you'd go away. After the tenth ring, I figured you were bound to give up soon. By ring twelve, I realized this was not the case and got out of bed, and by ring 16 I was down the stairs and within arm's reach of the phone. There was no ring 17.

Why did you violate the "no calls before 9:00 rule", especially on a Saturday. (When really, it should be moved to 11:00, on that day. Not because I sleep until then, but because normal people might.) It would be 3:45 in Los Angeles, so certainly the Monkeys wouldn't be phoning, and certainly it wasn't the codger corral calling, because the general population does not have the number to the Monkeyphone. (Also, they did not call my cell phone, nor my home phone, as far as I can tell.) All of our mutual friends adhere strictly to the "no consciousness before 10:00" rule of thumb, so I am perplexed and more than a little irritated at your choice of calling times. Need I mention that I have not been able to return to the sweet, sweet bosom of sleep?

In short, I hope you choke on your own tongue.

Very truly yours,

Special Sauce

P.S. Diesel, get off the damned couch, and don't think I don't know it was YOU who peed on the floor downstairs, as it certainly wasn't me.

2 Comments:

Blogger parcequilfaut said...

Was it the Bosslady Who Would Not Quit Even After You Did?

Do you need to file a restraining order?

2:45 PM  
Blogger Special Sauce said...

No, I don't think it is... and I think she may not have been calling the other day (except a call to my cell phone). I think I'm OK without the RO, but if I ever find ot who it was, I'm going to make them eat a wall-mounted crank-style phone. (The kind with the wooden cabinet.) Because that shit? Not cool.

But I did answer the phone later (thinking, oh no! what if someone died, or something?) and got 2 friends, so that was OK- neither of whom would have been conscious at a quarter to seven on a Saturday morning.

Blah.

6:17 PM  

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