Drunk Dials

Some people collect ticket stubs. Others hoard lucky pennies. I myself am a saver of voicemail messages.

Although my collection boasts happy messages and sappy messages, messages about Harry Potter and messages crooning "Happy Birthday," the voicemails dearest to my ears are those of the inebriated variety, commonly referred to as "drunk dials."

After sifting through an impressive concoction of clips featuring slurred words and dropped phones, I've selected a handful of my favorite intoxicated voicemails, which I have kindly shared below.


Top Five Voicemail Messages Left Under the Influence

1. The "I Don't Usually Drink So Let's Document It" Drunk Dial
While I enjoy this voicemail message for a myriad of reasons, the out-of-place "on Earth" and "I told Dan Frazier he could ride in a car" remarks are tops.

2. The "Wasted Narrator" Drunk Dial
Jack, the donor of this voicemail, traditionally drops obscure movie quotes into his drunk dials, but I've yet to place the "paint train, paint the subways" passage that ends this one.

3. The "Too Drunk for Words" Drunk Dial
Is it just me or does Jack audibly remind himself of his level of inebriation at the conclusion of this message ("I'm so fucking drunk, Jack.")?

4. The "21st Birthday Aftermath" Drunk Dial
In all fairness to Nathan, this message was left in the wee hours of the morning after his 21st birthday. In all fairness to my family's love of entertainment, I shared this voicemail with them at the dinner table the following evening.

5. The "All You Need Is Love" Drunk Dial
I urge you to count the number of times Matthew, the primary caller on this voicemail message, uses the word "love." Give up? Five times. He uses the word "love" five times. In less than a minute.

Abode

It was exactly three years ago that I journeyed south along the frozen shores of Lake Michigan with little more than a George Foreman Grill, two orthodontic retainers and a blue LA-Z-BOY chair named Floyd en route to Chicago, the liberal, metropolitan icebox that I've called home since. 

And in the one thousand and ninety-five days that I've inhabited the Windy City, the breeze of change has reshaped the world in dramatic fashion. Science textbooks forever altered the number planets in our solar system, the United States of America elected an African American commander-in-chief and I switched from regular Tide to Tide with Bleach. 

But in spite of the colossal alterations that the past three years have delivered, I've managed to maintain one of the universe's few constants—the same address.

In commemoration of our three-year relationship, I've compiled a diverging set of "top-five" lists that detail what I've grown to adore and to loathe about my apartment.


Top 5 Endearing Quirks That Make My Apartment Home

5. Live Band Karaoke at Paddy Long's
Few things bring me greater pleasure than dozing to the unparalleled lyrical stylings of Blondie's "Touch Myself" as performed by a flock of over-served DePaul freshman at the pub below my window.

4. Pre-Moses Radiators
In addition to paying nil to stay Snuggie-warm during Chicago's notoriously dastardly winters, there's something to be said for watching television while accompanied by the restful sounds of an Amtrak platform.

3. A Family of Couches
If ever one were to trip and fall in my apartment, there's a healthy chance they would settle gently onto the cornucopia of couches adorned throughout. Once dubbed "The Couch Museum," my apartment has accumulated so many sofas that they've spilled conveniently on to the back porch.

2. Furnished Back Porch
Although neither my roommate nor I read the newspaper, it's endearing to know that if we did, we'd have a comfortable place to do it.

1. Less Than Twelve Benjamins
The Hilton it ain't, but for less than a Manhattan parking space, my roommate and I have a place to hang our hats…and our cars. Actually, just our hats.


Top 5 Bastardly Reasons Why I Keep Movers On Speed Dial

5. Cat Hair Wall Paint Doesn't Match Our Rug
There hasn't been a feline in my apartment in at least three years, but I'm reminded of Garfield every time I snack because my refrigerator doubles as a cat hair farm.

4. Ten-Pull Light Cord
If ever there were a link between Russian roulette and urination, using the facilities in my apartment would be it. Rarely does the light spark on less than twenty pulls.

3. Drain-Free Shower Drain
Although it's the perfect temperature for wading, standing in my roommate's shower water is no day at the beach.

2. Robbers Welcome
In addition to the hole in the door, it's not uncommon for the doorknob fall off and roll down the steps. If it weren't for the lock on the building's main entrance, it's a safe bet that Floyd and the George Foreman would be distant memories by now.

1. Short Circuit
Because my apartment building and Stonehenge were constructed in the same decade, I'm convinced that the Mayans had a more reliable electrical source. But if I unplug the fridge and stand perfectly still, it's sometimes possible to run both the toaster and a flashlight at the same time.

Yuletide Recap

In observance of my nephews' first Christmas in the mitten, my family elected to eschew customary holiday traditions and spend the weekend participating in a handful of extreme yuletide activities.

     1. Critical Correspondence with Saint Nicholas

Cole (Writing):

Dear Mr. Claus,

Before indulging in the delicious array of goodies we've so generously provided for you, please consider that Rudolph and his associates can, quite literally, feel the weight of each and every calorie you consume as they haul your ever-expanding carcass through the snowy night air. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but in recent years people have been providing carrots in addition to the fatty, sugar-filled confectionery you so heavily favor. Take a hint, Santa. They aren't for the reindeer. Do the right thing.

Best regards,

Rooting for Rudolph

Peyton (Writing):

Dear SC,

I have a theory that big beards hide big secrets. What are you hiding?

Signed,

Creeped Out by Kringle

     2. Wear What You Slept In Cocktail Hour

Peyton: "Look Grandma, I'm Hugh Hefner!"

     3. Jesus for a Day Birthday Brunch

Cole: "Turn my water into wine, Dad!"

     4. Gift and Graffiti Exchange

     5. Ding Dong Ditch

Despite the fact that candy canes and Spritz cookies played an unseasonably small roll in our weekend festivities, I did manage to inspire a small bit of normalcy on Christmas morning.

Cole (tearing open a gift): "Alright, a Bakugan! Thanks, Uncle Corey!"

Me: "No problem, buddy. Just keep it out of your mouth or you might get Bakugan-orrhea."

Cole: "Is that like diarrhea?"

Me: "No, it's a sexua…"

Mom: "Silent night, holy night…"

Tardy Holiday

My roommate and I swapped belated Christmas gifts this evening. As a mark of our rapidly progressing maturity, all of the presents exchanged reeked of practicality.

For instance, Matthew bequeathed to me a leather desk chair with built-in lumbar support and curved armrests designed to ease shoulder strain.

In return, I bestowed upon Matthew the movie film "Inglourious Basterds" on Digital Versatile Disc, ten bags of Orville Redenbacher's Gourmet Popping Corn and a blue Snuggie that makes him look like a six foot five inch Smurf in a Princess Leia wig.

Gathering

Christmas Eve marked the first time I had seen any of my aunts, uncles or cousins since Sara and Travis' wedding two weeks ago.

Needless to say, I fielded my fair share of the following questions:
How do you feel?

Are you still hungover?

Does Pee-wee Herman know you stole his hair style?

You’re seriously drinking again already?

In my defense, even in the severely altered state of consciousness in which I spent most of the wedding reception, I still managed to rock the photo booth pretty hard. Based on the photo strip below, I'm uncertain whether I can say the same for them.