Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Call home... call home...call home....

Saturday, I had the occasion to be in the car with my sister Susan (you may know her as the one who doesn't read this blog)...

We have lots of history in cars.

Going to the beach with mom.

Going to the beach with dad.

Drive-in movies.

Double dating...well, not really, since Susan didn't have a date, she was just sent to spy on me and a very young Daddio.

Well into our 20's we even got into a bit*h slap fight once in the car.

Where we traveled across three lanes of heavy traffic and back all the while we slapped at each others slapping hands.

(To this day I still wonder what the drivers around us must have been thinking)

I'm not all that fond of riding in cars with my sister.

She is a downtown "Deeee-troit" driver all the way.. she tailgates, she flips the bird, she ziz-zags in and out of lanes.. she is disregardful of pedestrians and yield signs and traffic cops too. 

Crazy as frick.

I like to sit in the back seat.

Where I can duck, hide, and pray.

Pray we don't get our asses kicked or in an accident.

On Saturday as Susan played NASCAR (with Googie as her co-driver) I sat and quietly bit my cuticles, ate my cheeks and periodically shit my pants.

Every now and then I screamed offered helpful hints from the back seat... they were unappreciated and ignored.

Susan and Googie got into a conversation about a feature that many new phones/cars have...hands free dialing.

I had it for a bit with my new car a couple of years ago.... I would yell commands at the damn thing and it would always call the wrong person.

Susan told a funny story about her mother in law trying to get the car phone to call her home.

"Call home" Susan's MIL said over and over and over.

The phone made no move to call anyone.

Susan's MIL tried to change her voice, adding, subtracting inflection...

Time after time the phone refused to cooperate.

Which made Susan laugh.

From the back seat I added my two cents.

"My phone would be just as stupid" I said "after a short awhile of intense aggravation I would cuss and  yell "CALL FUC*IN HOME.."

and finally, finally that damn phone would make a move..

"dialing Frank" it would say.


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