I talk to my mother on the phone once a week. She always starts the conversation/answering machine message with: Hi, it’s Mom. Like I wouldn’t know it was her. I’d swear even the ring sounds different when she’s on the other end of the line. My mother really does have the strongest Long Island accent you could imagine. Actually, think of one and then multiply it by ten. You might then have idea what my mother sounds like. And for…
By the time I was 17, I’d had five years of braces, all four wisdom teeth taken out and two root canals, which were the result of my over-zealous orthodontist and his too-tight braces. Anyway. Like lifts, if I were afraid of dentists, I’d be screwed. I’m not afraid of them. Even with all my previous ‘work’, I hadn’t had a regular old lay-off-the sugar-please cavity, until my new dentist found two last month. I know the difference between good…
You know what I hate? Using my credit card over the phone. Or putting any number longer than a local or international number into a phone. Because that requires entering the number in before the automated voice says: I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that, try again. Well, of course you didn’t catch that. It wasn’t a ball. Or my shoe, hurtling towards your head. You don’t even have a head. You are a machine. May I speak to a real…
