Wednesday, August 12, 2009
#1 Yelling on the Phone… At Mom
Oh, hello there, you miniature chief operating officer, you. Phone to ear, head down, free hand swatting an invisible, mutant bug from the air. It looks as if you are about to loose, or make, a seven million dollar business deal. Are you merging with another company? Are you negotiating a slot on CNN money? Are you dealing with an annoying contract dispute? I’d like to ask you for an internship, since you seem really important and all. But you’re intimidating, and that makes me scared.
Wait, you are arguing with your mother. In public. On the phone. Like she is Lloyd and you are Ari Gold. Like you are wearing a $5,000 suit instead of a backpack.
“MOM! They fucked up my laundry, Mom! LazyBones fucked it up! I told them to dry my shirts on low heat so they wouldn’t shrink, you know? But then everything came back wet! Damp! WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? ARE THEY RETARDED?! MOM! CAN YOU CALL THEM, PLEASE? I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS!”
Yes, Cuse Kids. You love to yell. In public. On the phone. At your mom.