I Have a Posse...On Crack
Good evening. Dorothy Zbornak here... Or, wait... maybe it's Maude. Zam never bothered to tell me which Bea Arthur I was.
Either way, rest assured, Gretchen, I sound nothing like Bea Arthur. As a matter of fact, quite the contrary.
Everything that Zam has described is probably as close to the truth as she will ever get. My voice is shockingly normal. Especially when compared to her freak voice...
To tell the truth, I think that a "double dawg dare" was what drove me to call the voice mail that day. Well, that and the fact that it had become increasingly clear that telling a story is much easier when you aren't limited to 160 characters at a pop. (It sort of takes the wind out of the sails when you have to break the story up into 17 text messages, ya know?)
I dialed.
Several rings passed. My palms were sweaty. My throat, dry. And then I heard it.
The world's longest voice mail greeting. And it was being spoken by an excessively mature sounding freak-voice. Completely NOT what I expected--likewise, based on sundry pictures I had seen prior to said call.
First of all, she sounded nothing like the correct voice that had been assigned to her in my brain, by my brain. It messed up my WHOLE perception of reality. Secondly, she TOTALLY didn't have the Northeast accent that my brain said she was supposed to, despite having lived all her life in the South; she sounded like a Southerner. How dare she! Lastly, where the hell did the mature voice come from? She sounded...like an adult or something creepy like that.
Anyway, I left a long rant on the voicemail. A few razzes for good measure. But what I got in return was unspeakable...
A message EN ESPANOL.
For spite.
To this day, I have that message saved on my voicemail, and one day, I will figure out what in the holy hell Zam said to me on the other end. It's like the Rosetta Stone of voicemails.
I will decode it.
Anyway, it wasn't long after that when we finally grew some cojones. And now we act like idiots out loud with each other.
Either way, rest assured, Gretchen, I sound nothing like Bea Arthur. As a matter of fact, quite the contrary.
Everything that Zam has described is probably as close to the truth as she will ever get. My voice is shockingly normal. Especially when compared to her freak voice...
To tell the truth, I think that a "double dawg dare" was what drove me to call the voice mail that day. Well, that and the fact that it had become increasingly clear that telling a story is much easier when you aren't limited to 160 characters at a pop. (It sort of takes the wind out of the sails when you have to break the story up into 17 text messages, ya know?)
I dialed.
Several rings passed. My palms were sweaty. My throat, dry. And then I heard it.
The world's longest voice mail greeting. And it was being spoken by an excessively mature sounding freak-voice. Completely NOT what I expected--likewise, based on sundry pictures I had seen prior to said call.
First of all, she sounded nothing like the correct voice that had been assigned to her in my brain, by my brain. It messed up my WHOLE perception of reality. Secondly, she TOTALLY didn't have the Northeast accent that my brain said she was supposed to, despite having lived all her life in the South; she sounded like a Southerner. How dare she! Lastly, where the hell did the mature voice come from? She sounded...like an adult or something creepy like that.
Anyway, I left a long rant on the voicemail. A few razzes for good measure. But what I got in return was unspeakable...
A message EN ESPANOL.
For spite.
To this day, I have that message saved on my voicemail, and one day, I will figure out what in the holy hell Zam said to me on the other end. It's like the Rosetta Stone of voicemails.
I will decode it.
Anyway, it wasn't long after that when we finally grew some cojones. And now we act like idiots out loud with each other.
<< Home