So, all yesterday I was laughing about how Mack’s friend was all “Mack’s not just lactose intolerant; he’s lactose bigoted,” because I swear, people, you have never met a man less happy with milk products than our friend Mack.
I’m almost certain his personal hell will be having to spend eternity in a hot tub full of queso with Republicans made of cheese, while really hot women offer to spread butter cream frosting on themselves so he can lick it off, and his only refreshment is ice cold milk and Oreo cookies.
And that idea of him being lactose bigoted, while probably not as funny to you, was so funny to me that I was giggling every time I saw a commercial for milk or cheese or even cows.
So, you know that, when he called, I was going to give him hell about being a lactose bigot but instead I answer the phone and I’m all “Hello! Hello!” and nothing. I’m all “Hello?” and finally, he’s “Hello” and then there’s a sound like a giant iron dog scraping his ass along some barbed wire carpet and that’s the end of that phone conversation.
Friday, I was sitting on the couch working on my afghan and my dad calls and says, “So, where’ve you been all day?” and I’m all “Right here.” And he says, “Well, I’ve tried to call you four times.” Those four times aren’t even on my phone, let alone did the damn thing not ring.
AND after spending a Thanksgiving being thunked and poked and prodded by bratty people, I put a huge make-up bruise on my arm and took a picture of it and sent it to said bratty people in order to illustrate the dangers of continually flicking someone as delicate as me, and the damn phone was all like “Okay, sent.”
And it didn’t.
But you know what really sucks sweaty balls?
When I was perusing through the archives here in order to find that post of me and my mom dancing, I found a post talking about when I bought this phone, just last year.
Well, paint my nails and call me a lady, but what the fuck? I have a two year contract on this phone and it’s practically useless after only a year.
That really just burns me.