To Whomever Keeps Calling:

posted 24 Oct 2002, 3PM

I hate you so much.

You just called about five times in a row, so many times that I've learned not to answer my phone. And I don't want to be determined not to answer the phone in my own apartment.

Who are you, I wonder? Usually, when I answer you, you make a short beeping sound. Perhaps you are a pissed-off fax machine, seeking vengence following too many strings of mis-punched numerals? You might be a confused salesfellow from the LA Times, determined to sell us weekday newspaper editions that we have no time to read, calling and hanging up, calling and hanging up. Are you a digital recording representing some gubernatorial candidate or state representative? You might be a pimply middle school child making unimaginative prank calls, or retired cop with low self-confidence calling from the Fraternal Order of Police, then chickening out. Are you offering vacations? Are you a computer error that just wont quit? Are you the Lawnmower man? Are you calling to tell me that my order is ready?

Either way, I hate you. Die, die, die! Die.

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