You can read the second episode here. And the first one here.
All sentences in italics represent my internal monologue and should be read as such. Even this one. Also, if you see a word that appears in lime green that means it's hyperlinked. 'Cause I'm fancy.
Episode 3, "Text Message Rates Apply"
EXT. JOGGING TRAIL - AFTERNOON. I am walking a slow cool down lap around the park at the end of my street. I have just finished a pretty miserable jog and am limping towards home to quickly shower and head in to work. My text message notification sounds. I read a text from an un-stored number. *some of these messages have been removed for privacy, editing, and laziness*
TEXTER:
Hey are you going to the This American Life live event tomorrow?
ME:
didn't know about it. sounds wonderful! Also, lost my phone so I don't have this number saved...can you tell me who you are? :)
TEXTER:
We can play 20 questions to see if you can figure it out :)
That was the perfect answer. Who the hell is this? How is it possible that I haven't called this person since I broke my phone a month ago? Because I want to hang out with them like right now.
ME: Are you an animal, mineral, or person? Haha! I've got a few guesses...Shmalicia*?
Name barely changed for my own amusement, I do this a lot.
ME:
And yes, now that I know about the event, I'm going.
TEXTER:
Person. Larger than a breadbox, slighly less Asian than Shmalicia.
So, they know Shmalicia. Does that mean they're Asian? Maybe they're a musician that I've met through her.
ME:
What's your favorite outdoor activity?
TEXTER:
Either jogging or playing with my dog. Or jogging with my dog? Or grilling!!! With my dog!
I can't think of a dog owner with this area code. Is this one of the bazillion lesbo dog rescuers I met through Jack's Backyard?
ME:
Have we done those activities together? Do you like....jazz?
TEXTER:
We have played with my dog together many times and also grilled. Jazz is ok but we've never jazzed together, per se. I'm fairly certain we have done jazz hands together.
Ok, that actually narrows it down, some. Or at least crosses off all of the women that I know.This is a gay man. A gay man I've done jazz hands with! But, that doesn't remove a single homosexual male that I know from my suspect list. I've gotta take a shower like, now.
ME:
Oh wow. This is tough. I'm thinking of someone...but I've never grilled with him. Are you a musician of some kind?
I set my phone on the bathroom counter and get into the shower. The message tone goes off. My curiosity is so piqued that I step out of my still running shower and grab my phone to read the message, getting water all over the screen and key pad. I quickly grab my towel and dry it off. I am an idiot. An idiot who murders phones.
TEXTER:
Certainly not a professional. Never made any money off my talents, or lack thereof. I demand better questions!
ME:
Well now I know we're friends! How long have we known each other?
TEXTER:
6 years
Well this is getting embarrassing. I've gotta ask questions that will set this NPR listening, jazz-hand-doing homo apart from all of the other men that I know that ARE JUST LIKE HIM.
ME:
Star Trek or Star Wars?
TEXTER:
Hard one! I'm gonna go Star Wars though.
Style points for having a set opinion. He likes sci-fi. As do all of the other NPR listening, jazz-hand-doing nerd homos I know. I really have a very specific type for my friends... better bring out the big guns.
ME: Favorite Author?
TEXTER: Isabel Allende? David Sedaris?
ME: Phil?
TEXTER: I meant Hitler! Hitler is my favorite!
TEXTER: Yes, it's me.
I am really good at picking friends. I am really terrible at 20 questions.
All sentences in italics represent my internal monologue and should be read as such. Even this one. Also, if you see a word that appears in lime green that means it's hyperlinked. 'Cause I'm fancy.
Episode 3, "Text Message Rates Apply"
EXT. JOGGING TRAIL - AFTERNOON. I am walking a slow cool down lap around the park at the end of my street. I have just finished a pretty miserable jog and am limping towards home to quickly shower and head in to work. My text message notification sounds. I read a text from an un-stored number. *some of these messages have been removed for privacy, editing, and laziness*
TEXTER:
Hey are you going to the This American Life live event tomorrow?
ME:
didn't know about it. sounds wonderful! Also, lost my phone so I don't have this number saved...can you tell me who you are? :)
TEXTER:
We can play 20 questions to see if you can figure it out :)
That was the perfect answer. Who the hell is this? How is it possible that I haven't called this person since I broke my phone a month ago? Because I want to hang out with them like right now.
ME: Are you an animal, mineral, or person? Haha! I've got a few guesses...Shmalicia*?
Name barely changed for my own amusement, I do this a lot.
ME:
And yes, now that I know about the event, I'm going.
TEXTER:
Person. Larger than a breadbox, slighly less Asian than Shmalicia.
So, they know Shmalicia. Does that mean they're Asian? Maybe they're a musician that I've met through her.
ME:
What's your favorite outdoor activity?
TEXTER:
Either jogging or playing with my dog. Or jogging with my dog? Or grilling!!! With my dog!
I can't think of a dog owner with this area code. Is this one of the bazillion lesbo dog rescuers I met through Jack's Backyard?
ME:
Have we done those activities together? Do you like....jazz?
TEXTER:
We have played with my dog together many times and also grilled. Jazz is ok but we've never jazzed together, per se. I'm fairly certain we have done jazz hands together.
Ok, that actually narrows it down, some. Or at least crosses off all of the women that I know.This is a gay man. A gay man I've done jazz hands with! But, that doesn't remove a single homosexual male that I know from my suspect list. I've gotta take a shower like, now.
ME:
Oh wow. This is tough. I'm thinking of someone...but I've never grilled with him. Are you a musician of some kind?
I set my phone on the bathroom counter and get into the shower. The message tone goes off. My curiosity is so piqued that I step out of my still running shower and grab my phone to read the message, getting water all over the screen and key pad. I quickly grab my towel and dry it off. I am an idiot. An idiot who murders phones.
TEXTER:
Certainly not a professional. Never made any money off my talents, or lack thereof. I demand better questions!
ME:
Well now I know we're friends! How long have we known each other?
TEXTER:
6 years
Well this is getting embarrassing. I've gotta ask questions that will set this NPR listening, jazz-hand-doing homo apart from all of the other men that I know that ARE JUST LIKE HIM.
ME:
Star Trek or Star Wars?
TEXTER:
Hard one! I'm gonna go Star Wars though.
Style points for having a set opinion. He likes sci-fi. As do all of the other NPR listening, jazz-hand-doing nerd homos I know. I really have a very specific type for my friends... better bring out the big guns.
ME: Favorite Author?
TEXTER: Isabel Allende? David Sedaris?
ME: Phil?
TEXTER: I meant Hitler! Hitler is my favorite!
TEXTER: Yes, it's me.
I am really good at picking friends. I am really terrible at 20 questions.
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