Sunday, December 11, 2016
Telephone Hour
Last night my friend did something that I previously thought only happens in raunchy teenage sex comedies. She left her husband a voicemail telling him that she was "high as fuck" and describing in detail all of the weed and alcohol she had consumed, only to discover that it was not her husband's voicemail but, in fact, that of her boss. Apparently their phone numbers are directly adjacent to one another in her phone. And then she had like a two hour panic attack, although that might have been at least partially attributable to the aforementioned massive amount of weed. Fortunately, her boss has also entrusted her with the passcode for his voicemail, so she was able to delete the offending overshare, but it was a wonderful moment suitable for a Lake Bell or Eva Longoria. And one that made me very grateful to be such a clean teen.
Last night my friend did something that I previously thought only happens in raunchy teenage sex comedies. She left her husband a voicemail telling him that she was "high as fuck" and describing in detail all of the weed and alcohol she had consumed, only to discover that it was not her husband's voicemail but, in fact, that of her boss. Apparently their phone numbers are directly adjacent to one another in her phone. And then she had like a two hour panic attack, although that might have been at least partially attributable to the aforementioned massive amount of weed. Fortunately, her boss has also entrusted her with the passcode for his voicemail, so she was able to delete the offending overshare, but it was a wonderful moment suitable for a Lake Bell or Eva Longoria. And one that made me very grateful to be such a clean teen.
