Dial "A" for Annoying

My father does not know how to use his Bluetooth headset, so after we speak I am constantly treated to his inner thoughts. For instance, I get to hear him sing made-up songs as he drives.I hear him curse at other drivers. And this morning, I heard him pick up lunch at the supermarket, during which time I texted him:

My brother has a propensity for butt-dialing. I arrived at work last week and found a 14-minute voicemail from him, recorded after he came home one night and chatted with my parents. Because I wear a headset and can type pretty quickly, I transcribed my favorite parts and e-mailed it to all three of them so they could enjoy.

And now you can enjoy it, too.

Dad: …even temporarily.

Josh enters.

Josh: What’s that?
Dad: Just an adventure movie, a good one…
Josh: [Burp.]
Dad: …Rock Hudson …
[Unintelligible.]
Dad: What are you doing tomorrow?
Josh: I don’t know, I forget. I think I have plans.
Dad: ‘Cause you’re welcome to watch the game with me.
Josh: That will never happen. In a million years.
Dad: C’mon....
Josh: I hate sports.
Dad: You're a clicky head.
Josh: I'm a nerd.
Dad: This movie is wonderful, by the way.
Josh: Remember, I’m a nerd? Hey, if you want to watch the first season of Firefly, let’s do it. I’m down. Let’s do it, right now!

A few minutes later, as conversation continues…

Dad: Blah blah blah, Sam Rockwell in “Moon.”
Josh: Plot spoiler.
Mom: Let’s ruin the movie for Nancy !
Josh: Awesome! But let me butt-dial her again, so when this message cuts off we can ruin the rest of the movie!
Dad: Yay! Let’s do it!

Exeunt, stage left.

[Note: I was paraphrasing that last bit.]

And now I have begun to suspect that Duane Reade is drunk-dialing me. I got an automated call today that said: “Your prescription of [silence] is ready at [silence]” several times, and then cut off in the middle of the sentence.

So beware, you drunk, butt-dialing, techno-incompetents – I have a blog, and I am not afraid to use it!