It’s not that we don’t have many, we’ve got three cordless phones and four cell phones, but the real trick is in finding them. My mother and father don’t even try any more. They just let it ring and ring until someone else gets fed up by the loud reverting sound and goes hunting. Lately it’s just for my brother. His many girlfriends call numerous times a day to check on him and what he’s doing, and dozens and dozens of his guy friends call asking for rides, times to come over, and video game gossip.
Now as soon as I’ve taken off my shoes, curled my legs beneath me, grabbed a brimming cup of hot chocolate, balanced my lap top on one knee, the cat on my shoulder has fallen asleep, and the dogs curled at my sides are calm, the phone will ring.
Ah, hell.
So I have to toss the computer to the side, scaring all three dogs away; the scattering dogs freak out the sleeping cat who then digs into my shoulder before springing away and causing me to spill my hot chocolate all over my leg and drip into my empty shoes. Then I have to jump, skip, hop, and plow through the swirling mess of dogs that will twine around my legs thinking that I got up with the sole intention of letting them outside. When I manage to clear the dogs I break out into a sprint, sliding across the wood floor, feet tingling with the threat of splinters, headed first towards the kitchen phone.
Is it there? No. Of course not.
Next to the living room. Phone? Yes! Is it charged up, does it work? No.
Why the hell did I build my hopes up in the first place?
Okay, to the third spot, my brother’s room. Up the stairs, three turns, down the hall, into his room and smack into the weightlifting machine thingy. Ouch. The phone’s still ringing. On his desk? No. Under the blankets? No. I pause and try to ignore the sound of my breath as I wait for another ring.
It’s coming from my parents room. I ran down the hall and into their room. The phone isn’t on the phone jack, but it’s still ringing. I climbed up on their bed and starting looking on the back shelf, shuffling though piles of magazines, and bank statements, under cat beds and remotes. There, among black, phone sized DVD, TV, fan and stereo remotes was the black, phone sized phone.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is Jake home?”
“No Lauren, like I said earlier, he’ll be home this evening. Like around dinner time… like later.”
“*sigh*…alright.”
“I’ll have him call you.”
“Bye.” Click.
All of that just to tell on of Jake’s girlfriends to calm down and go away.
Now that I’ve just finished ranting on the fact that I never get any calls, my aunt called for me. My aunt, quite the pink princess covered in porcelain dolls, and I are great pen pals. She’s a writer and is always sending me literary magazines and books. Just recently, about three years ago, she starting working as a advertisement, executive, traveling speaker thing for a church in Maine. Abracadabra, she’s now religious. This book she just finished a few days ago is supposedly about these three, or possibly four, witches. She loved it. She thinks she has a little witch in her. She also said that my mother and I are like that. Well… okay, whatever you say Auntie… but doesn’t the bible have some not nice words about witchcraft? She isn’t terribly sarcastic and she does help pay for my college books, so I held that little bit back.
The last book she sent me was “Asleep“. It was okay. Nothing I would really recommend or read again.
And last night I finished “The Scars of Evolution”. Wow. I love Elaine Morgan. She’s just the super coolest person ever. I don’t know how anyone can’t accept the Aquatic Ape Theory. It’s the first evolutionary theory that I really researched and looked into, so that might of swayed me a bit, but damn, it’s good. “The Scars of Evolution” is a good book, very good, but more so I recommend “The decent of Woman”. It’s by the same author on the same theory, but in this book it focuses more on women’s characteristics and changes over time. It rocks. With those two finished I've started on “Neanderthal”. Yeah, yeah, I've really got to get back to Snowcrash sometime. I will.
Clocks are cool. I like this one best, but this one is pretty nice too.
You're Most Like The Season ... NO wait! Hold it!
You're not like a season at all! You're a
psycho... You need a new season created just
for you.
You either answered wildly to be different, or you
truly are a 'special case'. Independant -
maybe, Intelligent - somewhat. Weird and wacky
- most certainly.
A nut case, a fruit cake, the joker, the insane
lunatic :) However be careful or you may get
locked up.
Well Done... You're not at home in any of the
seasons, you creat your own.
?? Which Season Are You ??
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