I Got Drunk Dialed

Last night around 11:30 p.m., my phone rang. I saw that it was Poorod. We had chatted the day before and I knew his vacation started yesterday. I figured he wanted to brag about not having to work for the next week. I picked up and encountered an odd fellow.

  • Me: Hello?
  • Him: Heyyyyyyyy!
  • Me: What's up?
  • Him: Hellooo? *chuckle*
  • Me: You sound drunk.
  • Him: Well, what are ya gonna do?

I quickly realized ours would be an interesting conversation. I started furiously typing all the ridiculous things he said. I didn't catch everything, but following are the highlights.*

I started telling him about my leak situation and he interrupted after 10 seconds.

  • Him: Hey, I'm watchin' the news and they're interviewing this guy, and you can see a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket!
  • Him: Bwahahahahaaha!!
  • Him: What is he, f**kin' Schneider?

Next, he started babbling about bread sticks.

  • Me: What about bread sticks?
  • Him: Bread sticks. I have some.
  • Him: I have a bread stick.
  • Him: It's soft.
  • Him: My bread stick lacks parmesan cheese.
  • Him: Bwahahahahaaha!!
  • Him: Christina thinks my bread stick has parmesan cheese on it.
  • Him: Now, let's think about this.
  • Him: Parmesan cheese is not a hereditary trait, so I don't see how…
  • Him: *incoherent mumbling*
  • Him: Oh, she didn't realize it wasn't a metaphor!
  • Him: That's why she thought there was…
  • Him: *apparently distracted by a commercial*
  • Him: Cars.
  • Him: Cars got two thumbs up dude.

He told me he just finished watching Law & Order.

  • Me: I can't watch that show. It's too violent and depressing.
  • Him: Special Victims Unit is depressing
  • Him: Law & Order isn't.
  • Him: There is homicide.
  • Him: But just because people die doesn't mean it's depressing.
  • Him: I die a little every day when I go to work.
  • Him: I should be on Law & Order.
  • Him: How f**kin' great would that be?
  • Him: A Law & Order about a hotel auditor!

I asked how much he'd had to drink and he told me about half a bottle. I was shocked.

  • Me: A half a bottle of rum? That's a lot!
  • Him: It's plastic! It's not like one of the big Bacardi bottles.
  • Him: I can't really tell what the…oh…750 milliliters.
  • Him: That would be like .0075…?
  • Him: No. That can't be right.
  • Him: That would be like a f**kin' thimble dude.
  • Him: This is not a thimble.
  • Him: Thimbles are not plastic.
  • Him: Oh, there is an 800 number on the bottle.
  • Him: I can call 1-800-Bacardi.
  • Him: You know what I can do?
  • Him: I have a camera phone!
  • Him: I can take a picture of this bottle and ask how f**king big this bottle is!!
  • Him: Bwahahahahaaha!!
  • Him: *again distracted by TV*
  • Him: Oh, the weather's on.
  • Him: You wouldn't believe this pencil dick!

For some reason, he started talking about walking outside.

  • Him: I might get shot if I walk outside!
  • Me: Is it dangerous?
  • Him: Hello?! This is Indiana! It's all rednecks! Of course it's dangerous!
  • Him: Their neighbor, when I rolled up here, was revving this hotrod type thing.
  • Him: *sound of hot rod revving engine*
  • Him: I was like, "What a f**kin' pecker head!"
  • Him: *distracted by TV*
  • Him: Alberto never interacts with a front.
  • Him: Alberto better not touch my front.
  • NOTE: The remaining statements were spoken with a silly Mexican accent.
  • Him: Alberto!
  • Him: Ricardo Montalban!
  • Him: Corinthian leather!
  • Him: What is Corinthian leather dude?

Later he mentioned that in high school, he wrote an op ed piece for his high school news paper saying that it was ridiculous for Clinton to think our country's welfare was in danger just because there was trouble in Haiti.

  • Him: It was three paragraphs!
  • Him: That doesn't make any sense.
  • Him: We weren't in danger!
  • Him: F**kin' Haiti!

Next he began talking about how he is a lot like his Dad. Somehow, that segued into the following story:

  • Him: When I was a toddler, I shit myself.
  • Him: My Dad told me to tell my Mom.
  • Me: Huh?
  • Him: I went to him and he checked my diaper and knew it was bad.
  • Him: He told me, "Go tell your Mom you shit yourself."
  • Him: So I went to wherever my Mom was and said, "Shit a'self! Shit a'self!"
  • Him: *chuckle*

He finally told me he had to go listen to the detachable penis song. He complained earlier that his friend can only play CDs on the DVD player, so the sound comes through the TV and is crappy.

  • Me: You guys are modern. You have the Internet on a disk.
  • Him: I do!
  • Him: It's on a zip disk because it has more room.
  • Him: The internet is big.
  • Him: It's like, five megabytes.

*I've recounted these dialogues to the best of my knowledge.

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