THE TELEPHONE

They call me at all hours.
Moronic teenagers who mis-dial.
Associations for The Fraternal Order of Police Departments.
Politicians, Solicitors, Banks, Insurance Companies, Doctors,
Receptionists, people from my past, who I don't care to talk to...
ad infinitum.

They drive me freakin' crazy!
They ALWAYS call when I am on the porcelain throne,
or when I am getting lathered up in the shower.
They call when I have a bowl of Cheetos in my pudgy little hands,
and am hunkering down to a serious night of watching,
mindless TV shows.

Thank God, I can see the call waiting name and number.
This is my power!
I dig the call waiting technology.

My acting/modeling agent insists on leaving messages on my cell phone.
I never make the auditions...so he gets pissed off at me.
I don't know how many times I have told him, that I just use my cell phone for emergencies, and rarely look at my messages.
I guess I am behind the times.
I tell him to call me at home.

I am always here, facebooking, writing, or painting, after my gym workout.
I knew he was going to fire me...and he did!
I'll have to find a bona-fide agency now.
I'm going to have to buy an SAG card now...(screen actor's guild)...
Maybe I'll get famous in Hollywood!

I'll have a home on Mulholland Drive!
I will own a Bentley and a Porshe!
Hollywood starlets will swoon at my feet!
I will lunch with Robert Dinero and Nick Nolte at Spaggio's!
I will have a thousand-dollar-a-day, coke habit!
Hmmmm.
I guess the telephone, ain't so bad after all.
Naw!