« a really, really nice Saturday | Main | aah, motherhood »

Sunday, June 27, 2004

phone therapy

I think I need to go to a Phone Therapy Center. There must be such a place, right? Where they use, I dunno, shock therapy, to make spazzes like me more effective telephone communicators? Maybe after a course at the State Facility for Telephone Losers, I would be more confident about phone use, and wouldn't dread it so. Because right now, frankly, most of the time, my feeling is, why would God have invented the Internet, if he had wanted us to talk on the phone and make utter fools of ourselves? After a six-week commitment, though, that could all be changed.

Scene: Rachel is pretending to talk on a toy phone. Wires trail from electrodes attached to Rachel's shaved skull (hey, I've always wanted to shave off this unhealthy mess and start fresh. Another plus).

Rachel: says "like", as in, "So I was like" [ZOT!!] [begins to tell story she's told to this person twice already] [ZOT!!] exceeds limit of 15 words per second[ZOT!!] babbles. [ZOT!!] says, "so, ANYWAY" [ZOT!!] starts a friendly conversation with a person conducting a survey [ZOT!!]

At night they would play subliminal messages over the speakers in my cell in a soft, soothing monotone: "Nobody wants to hear your talk to your child for forty-five seconds in the middle of a conversation. You always spit out your gum before you answer the phone. Your voice does not sound nearly as nasal to others as it does inside your head. Other people know how to finish their own sentences...."

Do you think they'd have basket weaving? I've always wanted to learn basket weaving.