Ah, yes, the telephone. A wonderful invention. One might even say a brilliant invention. Alexander Graham Bell gave the world a great gift. However, there are times when I wish the telephone had never been invented because when certain people want to reach out and touch someone, they want to reach out and touch me. And when I say certain people, I, of course, mean certain friends (or “fiends” as Dudley Moore once called them).
Now, I’ll admit that I’m an introvert and I’m anti-social. I’ve always seen the answering machine as a convenient means of ignoring my fiends. However, there are just some fiends who won’t play along. If I get the answering machine when I call people, I’m willing to accept the illusion that they’re not home. I don’t call three or four times (without leaving a message), hoping to catch them off guard. I also don’t attempt to call someone’s bluff, like my fiend, T. She’ll leave messages in which she’ll question why I wouldn’t be home and accuse me of not picking up the phone. Then she’ll order me to call her right away. My usual response is, “Yeah, I don’t think so, bitch,” or something stronger. Last night, when she pulled both the answering machine accusation stunt and calling-multiple-times-to-catch-me-off-g
I've actually been expecting T to call me, so I was sure it was her when the phone rang last night. She called me twice last week, which is one reason I didn't want to talk to her. The other reason is that I just wasn't ready to face her. You see, I'm either going to have to lie to her tonight when I return her call or lie to her on Saturday. I'm trying to get out of a night of clubbing with her and my other high school friends. Yeah, the same set of friends I was bitching about in that previous August entry. Anyway, while clubbing is pretty much my idea of hell, I still agreed to go, thinking I could get out of it later if I really couldn't stomach the idea. Well, now I have to get out of it because I'm broke. I only have about $19 to tide me over until the 15th and I'm going to need some of that money for other things. Even if I had enough money for cover, I probably wouldn't be able to pay for drinks, etc. Before cashflow was even an issue, my mom had suggested that I call T on the day and tell her I have a migraine. As I've had migraines on Saturdays before, I'm sure this would only count as a white lie. I mean, there's every possibility that I'll get a migraine for real and the excuse will become genuine. I’m tempted to just tell T that I’m broke, but then she would either suggest that I borrow money or would question how a responsible (Ha!) adult could possibly be broke. Knowing her, she would do both, which is totally unfair. We were in junior high and high school together: she knows I suck at math.
Ironically, the reason I’m broke is because of Bell (the phone company not the inventor) because Bell decided to wait a week & ½ before depositing my cheque. Perhaps I was extremely naïve to expect Bell (like any of the other collectors I deal with) to suck money from my bank account as soon as they received my payment. When I glanced at my ATM receipt a few days after paying Bell, I should have taken this into account and not assumed that they had already deposited my cheque. Normally, I’d probably have enough money to cover this kind of eventuality, but I’ve had a lot of expenses the last couple of weeks so things were already a bit tight. And, yes, I know how pathetic it is that I don’t keep better track of my expenses or my bank balance, but...uh...Hey, aren’t those the Bell beavers over there? Gord! Frank! *Makes escape under cover of ridiculous segue*
Why does life have to be so complicated? Why do I have to make life so complicated? I scored 91 (out of 100) for neuroticism on a personality test on smithereen’s LJ. Is anyone surprised? Probably not.