Drunk Dials
Since Lidia and I got married my trips to Northgate with the gang have dropped off. I still make it out occasionally, and when I'm not there I am reminded that I am there in spirit at least when my cell phone rings at 2am. The drunk dial has become a standard way of letting those that couldn't make it out that they are missed and the group wishes they could have been there. It is also a great form of blackmail material since the folks making the call never really remember what was said or how silly they were.
I appreciate the calls for one other reason. They are proof of the impact I have made in the group. I can sleep soundly on the weekends knowing that if David Allen Coe's "You Never Even Called Me By My Name" is played and the group is drunk enough I will be called and seranated. I'll make rednecks out of them all yet, just give me some time.
I appreciate the calls for one other reason. They are proof of the impact I have made in the group. I can sleep soundly on the weekends knowing that if David Allen Coe's "You Never Even Called Me By My Name" is played and the group is drunk enough I will be called and seranated. I'll make rednecks out of them all yet, just give me some time.
posted by Timmie Smith at 10:23 AM
2 Comments:
Update your blog punk! :)
It's funny, but the friends I left behind in Seattle are the same way. They can't go to a bar and hear Michael Jackson without calling me and singing to me about it. And they can't be at a bar with a Juke Box without playing some Johnny Cash in my honor. I love those guys...
Especially since they tend to drunk dial me by seven or eight at night due to the time difference...I don't know if I'll be as glad to hear from them once I move to Boston and they start calling in the middle of the night...
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