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September 8, 2005

A day in which drunk dialing was finally harnessed for the power of GOOD, instead of EVIL.

Mark the day, ya'll, a day which shall live forever in infamy, a day in which finally I made a fool of myself AND helped ease suffering at the same time. And also caused suffering, a little, but only on the road to greater EASING of suffering.

And that day was ... day before yesterday.

It is my steadfast opinion that the true root of this issue lies in the "dialing" and not the "drunk" portion. This theorom of mine has been proven time and time again, including (but not limited to) the following research scenarios:

  • One Kappa Alpha who shall never be named
  • One adjunct History professor
  • "Tell her she had cameltoe in those green pants!"
  • Birthdays and ex-husbands
  • The time I tried to join the Jaycees

But then Oprah intervened. No, seriously. Oprah really does change people's lives. It starts with the right bra, ya'll, and then everything falls into place.

See, I've been watching news obsessively and now I have trouble sleeping, even more than usual. I close my eyes and I see every single face from the TV, every inch of water and I can't breathe. So I thought I should start watching better TV before bedtime, and maybe up the dosage of wine so I would have a little sleep so that the thing that happened at work on Tuesday* wouldn't happen ever again.

[ * someone may have accidentally shown up to work without the following: ID badge, keys to desk, cellphone, matching socks, sense of humor, bagless under-eye area, etc.]

Right. So ... Oprah. Now, I Tivo Oprah (shutup yes I do) and so I went to watch me some "How not to get wrinkles!" kind of TV, but it turns out this was the first non-rerun Oprah show in months, and she was down south with Nate and Jamie Foxx and Dr. Mehmet Oz, too, who I just adore.

And there was a lot of wine and a lot of crying, and then I drunk-dialed Jennifer, and cried to her, because the guy who wouldn't leave his dog? OH MY GOD. And the little boy who rescued his T-ball trophies, so someone would know he'd once been a somebody? HYSTERICS DESCENDED. And then I vowed to watch something less upsetting so I could get some sleep, but of course by then all I could think of was the guy and the dog and the little boy with his trophies and then there was some drunk donating, in which I cried on the phone and talked about the Oprah show, and (in a really helpful move) also made the nice lady on the other end of the phone cry. Me = really fucking helpful. Sorry phone lady!

Oh, and yesterday on the way home from work, I remembered why I don't sleep on the bus. Even if I am REALY REALLY TIRED. You just never can tell where your head will loll. Or who will be there to capture the lolling forever on camera.


Then I got home and noticed that, coincidentally enough, there were two guys falling asleep right in my very own home and one of them had already lolled right onto the other:


And if ya'll get liquored up tonight and need to drunk-dial-donate money, call the Humane Society for a good time ... 1-888-259-5431. And for God's sake be carefull where your head lolls!

Posted by laurie at September 8, 2005 10:28 AM