On Monday, I had lunch with a friend of mine named Shirley. (Mrs. Spag if anyone from my high school is reading this.) Shirley is from Texas, and she's got a pretty distinctive voice. I wouldn't go so far as to say she has a drawl, but I might use the word "twang." Because that's kind of a funny word to begin with. Anyway, as I was on my way to meet her at the restaurant, I got a call on my cell and I answered it without looking at the caller ID.
"Hey!" said a lightly Texan voice.
"Hey! I'm on my way. Are you there already?"
"What? Where are you going?"
"Wait, what?"
"...Bethany?"
"Okay, you're not Shirley, are you?"
And then the woman started laughing hysterically.
"Okay, so to recap, you have the wrong number and I'm just stupid...we're an awesome pair!"
And that's how I made friends with the wrong-number lady. Someone remind me to tell the story about how I rear-ended a guy's Jeep and then he hugged me. (Please refer to subtitle.)
So as Ron White once said, I told you that story to tell you this story.
About...I just counted on my fingers...about seven years ago, I answered the phone at home, which at that time was the house where I grew up. We had one of those old rotary phones. The kind that since the late '50s, no one has used except for my dad.
So the phone rang seven years ago.
"Hello?"
"Boy, get yo' mama for me."
"Who is this?"
"Boy, don't you know yo' grandmama?!"
"This isn't JK...wait...um, what number are you calling?"
At this point, I was wondering why my grandmother suddenly sounded like an elderly black lady. But who knows what old people do with their spare time.
"Boy, get yo' mama for me!"
"This isn't...ma'am, I think you have the wrong number."
"Boy, this yo' grandmama! Don't you know the sound of your own grandmama voice?!"
"Ma'am, I definitely do know my grandmother...and you're not her."
I hope that somewhere in Wilkinsburg, there's a black family who tells the story about how Grandmama accidentally called some white person's house. That story probably ends with how they then bought Grandmama one of those giant phones with the numbers the size of your arm that you have to dial like Tom Hanks in "Big."
In conclusion: I want to be called "Grandmama" when I'm old, regardless of whether or not I have kids.
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5 comments:
I'll call you Grandmomma. I can just hear my Great Uncle tellin' me stories of his youth in South Carolina. See, your Grandmomma caught me showin' your aunt sue my wacky (prounounced with a breathy whuh sound in the beginning... whu-ack-ay). Boyyy I tell you what!
I'm sure we'll all end up calling you Grandma (even some of your students too :P).
If you need a good laugh, watch this video some friends and I made on Tuesday (I'm the one in the psycho path shirt).
Link: http://video.xanga.com/LifeHurtsTooMuch/0f26d323846/video.html
You all did a really good job with the video. I was actually laughing out loud.
It was funnier than a lot of stuff that's on SNL, I'll tell you that much. And you're all cute as buttons. And YOUNG! I mean, I knew you were young, but good grief. I think I'd forgotten what 14-year-olds look like.
Thanks for sharing!
Haha no problemo, I'm actually 15 O_o
And all the other cast members were seniors (17/18)
We're making a sequel soon, and it's going to rock!
Mwhahaha!
I didn't think it was possible, but that actually made me feel even older.
Then I realized that I'm 24 and that feeling old right now would be absolutely insane. I think I'll go get something pierced tomorrow just to reaffirm my youth.
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