What the hell is it with voice mail? People are weird with voice mail. They either leave messages that are WAY too long ( like me!) or they’re petrified to the very core of their being to leave even just their names! I mean, people will actually get pissy with you if you try to get them to leave a message for someone. Some get downright angry.
"There is no friggin way I'm leaving a voic... DAMNIT!!!"
Why?
Performance anxiety?
Why?
Too busy?
….
To leave your damn name?!!!
I don’t think so… No one is THAT busy! So why?
People confuse me…
Don’t get me wrong, I love people… Err… Maybe I love the IDEA of people. You know, people as a concept rather than people in practice. Hmmm… Possibly I have issues?
Pictured: A good idea... But let's not run with it.
Anyway, we’re all we have… So we kinda have to at least give each other the common courtesy of live and let live—we FRIGGING SHOULD anyway; but that’s a whole other freaking series of novels on that particular subject. And I’m too busy to leave my name on your voicemail, right? HA!
Okay, back to griping for a minute… We need each other. Even though there are a gazillion dumb apes out there who will say differently; it’s still true, home-skillet. WE ABSOLUTELY NEED EACH OTHER. Think I’m wrong? Okay then…
Go bake your own bread, plant your own food, kill your own chicken Mcnuggets, make your own electricity, build your own car/boat/plane, make your own music, make your own movies, build your own house, pave your own roads, find your own water, guard your own life, teach your own children, cut your own hair, sew your own clothes… HELL! Wash your own damn socks!!!
D’oh!
Granted, some if not all of us can do a couple/few of those things. Many some of us would be able to do enough to live by our own wits and abilities if pressed to it… but the bitching would be legendary.
Go ahead, tell me I’m wrong. Oh yeah, and if you find a free-range chicken McNugget and you’re able to actually trap it and kill it—bet you it won’t be fried already. Snicker…
Chicken nuggets... The most dangerous of all the free range meat pieces.
So all that silliness (and glaring truth) aside, I love my fellow humankind. I simply don’t understand us sometimes. Voicemail just happens to be one of the trillion things I don’t understand. Possibly… I’m weird. Possibly… I’m looking too deep. Possibly… I shouldn’t couple philosophy with professional courtesy. But hey! At least I’ll leave you a damn entertaining voicemail!
BAM!
Made it back at the end… did you see that?
