Monday, October 22, 2012

in the end it's just bad manners...

Tall Little Sally butt dialed me today.

Growing up there were only a couple of things you could do with your ass besides sit on it all day.  You could kiss it.  Sometimes in anger and sometimes to say goodbye.  You could get it kicked by the neighborhood bully.  And you could get it in gear, though whether this gear is designed for rain, hiking or some other sport I was never told.


Now there are literally dozens of things people are using their butts for.  Dancing.  Hauling.  Laughing it off, though there don't seem to be enough people doing this as the general size of butts increases yearly.

And an ass can be so many things.  Grass.  Mine.  Kick.  Smart. The possiblities are endless.

But I never considered the talent inherent in our posterior until someone butt dialed me.  Now, I think the butt dial falls into the same category of faux pas as introducing yourself to someone you've already met.   A little higher on the scale than 'met at a party' but lower than 'we had sex', "and I don't remember you."  (The second, and worse of the two, only occured to me once but it was with a couple and therefore worth double the points!).

But we excuse the butt dial, laughing about it when our good friends do it to us.  Cowering in a dark corner when we have rung up someone we either don't want to speak to or haven't called in a while, placing the face of the phone down between our legs as though they could see us through the screen. 

The worst is listening to the crunching noise on a recorded butt dial message.  What are they doing?  And who are they talking to?  Are they eating?  What is that music they're playing? 

These questions roll around in our heads as we play and then replay the message all the while straining to find out:  "Are they talking about ME?"


Tall Little Sally sounded as though she were taking a bath in a bag of freshly baked Dorito's.  The alternation of crunch and slurping noises that I could only attribute to the possibility that she was washing someones hair in her little illegal hair salon in the back of her father's gas station.

And you can bet your ass that my name was said at least a dozen times.

1 comment:

  1. Funny! For some reason I can't help but think of the great line from the movie, Sideways: "Don't drink and dial." Does that apply to butt dialing?

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