Just one more night

It's no mystery that I hate the phone. Consistent readers and friends and family know that I only answer the phone when I am expecting one of my 30 daily chicken wing deliveries. Actually, the reason why I never answer my phone isn't because I ignore specific calls, it's because I try not to keep it within a 1 mile radius of my actual person.

Reason why? I hate being bothered. I am a zen like creature. At peace in the the restings of my super intelligent brain. Pondering the creation of man, the meaning of religion, and why we drive on parkways and park on driveways and shit like that. When that terrorist technological device sounds its death tone, my tranquil state is disturbed, and when my T.S. is all messed up, you better get your heiney in the fetal position, boy.

So basically, I use a cell phone as a very tiny answering machine. Leave your pertinent info and I will get to it once I have separated the relationship between church and state. However......S.Vincent "Office Edition" v2.4 is a different entity all together. A menacing black phone is no less then 10 inches (or a "John Holmes") away from me, and I am a slave to it at all times. This being an inescapable truth, I have adapted with a set of behavioral instincts attached to it. I know a telemarketer from a mile away, I know how to navigate a touch tone menu to get to real person in under 20 seconds, I can end a conversation politely in under a minute and I know when you are reading from a script. But there is one thing that I am a sucker for..........Phil Collins Hold Music.

Go ahead, try to get frustrated, impatient, and angry when Phil is talking to ya. You can't do it, it's impossible. It's like when you are tearing into someone with the most colorful profanities imaginable and then.... a 4 year old boy with ice cream sandwich all over his face walks into the room. Suddenly, rage dissolves, impatience turns into calmness, and profanities transform into baby talk.

I know. You are thinking, "You're full of it" or "you're a pansy" or "how was that Celiene Dion concert you went to last night, you 50 year old woman!". But seriously, just try not to feel soothed by this English leprechaun.



There is evil genius at work here. Damn you Time Warner......

Oh, and the fantastic realization of the day is that if you Google Search "PoVegas", guess what the number one result is? You guessed it, YFYB......I'd like to thank you, the fans, for this incredibly small and irrelevant achievement in Internet history. See? And your mother said you'd never accomplish anything in life by surfing the net all day.

MA!!...... THE MEATLOAF!!!!! (you know you haven't seen it enough)