Get caller ID and then learn to love call screening.

I love my parents, but if they call during certain Primetime TV hours, they’re leaving a message.

Actually, it’s rather easy for me.  No need for Caller ID since my parents are practically the only people who still call my house.  Everyone else calls my mobile and my parents always call my mobile immediately after being unable to reach me at the house.  I usually just don’t answer the phone to avoid all the freaking surveys and political campaigns and warm-lead telemarketers.  Do Not Call list my ass.  More like a Hey! Call Me! list.  It’s like I stamped “bleeding heart” in indelible ink on my phone listing.  The one’s I love are the survey calls that are actually advertising.  “When was the last time you ate at Carl’s Jr?” and “Are you considering a large appliance purchase in the next 6 months?  Have you considered Maytag during your search?” Clever bastards.

Angry rant aside, I’ll send a few words to the Big Guy for Timmy and hope for a speedy recovery.  Medecine, when practiced outside the influences of an HMO, is a wonderful thing.

Doctor, doctor,
Dix

Dix,
Broad’s mater has NO concept of boundaries whatsoever. If Broad does not answer the phone, Mom continues to call back, ad inifinitum, leaving more and more agitated messages until Broad, in fit of pique, answers. Having lived with Broad for a while, I can testify to this. After meeting Broad’s mom, I have never, ever questioned where Broad gets her propensity for drama.

My mom is like that.  (We are twins… hello)

She calls all bent out of shape about stuff.

A couple of weeks ago, my dad had something funny show up on a glaucoma test.  My mother had him BLIND before the day was over.

Turns out it was nothing…

I sympathize.

Yeah, parents are like that.

I worked odd hours and weekends at my last job, so it wasn’t unusual for me to come out of a meeting to find a message on my office phone, my cell phone and then 2 messages at my house, all saying “I guess you’re not at home/office, I’ll try your other number” except the second message at home which was the resigned “I can’t reach you, please call” message.  And the rub… it was usually something totally minor… like to ask what type of milk they should buy for when I come up for the weekend.

My dad being a doctor, they don’t usually get overly dramatic about medical issues.  The opposite really.  “Your Great-Aunt Rose passed away last night.  Did I mention she was in the hospital?” No, no you didn’t.  Thanks for letting me know.  Wait, I have a Great-Aunt Rose?

Outside looking in,
Dix

Wad doesn’t panic.

Wad really doesn’t.

Oh, sure, Wad gets uptight, but ask anyone who has had the opportunity to se the Wad in a less-than-ideal sitch and they’ll tell you:

Wad doesn’t panic. He gets the job done first. Then he goes to pieces.

See? Wad doesn’t panic. Or get hysterical. Until after the crisis has passed. Then he spends months (years?) resolving the shoulda,coulda,woulda’s…

Wad’s met Broad’s mom.

It didn’t go well. Never has. She always seemed like she had just gotten caught in the headlights of a very large truck whilst molesting farm animals. At least that’s the look she would give Wad when she saw the Wad a-comin’.

Not that Wad would know what that look looks like.

Um. Yeah.

Zoltan!