“Where are they? WHERE ARE THEY? WHERE. ARE. THEY?! Answer me. WHERE ARE THEY? Are you going to answer me? WHERE ARE THEY?!?!?!”
— Eric, upon realizing that he hasn’t seen his bandanas in awhile.
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“Like…fucking…IMMEDIATELY.”
For the past year, Jeremy has been asking me to post the following voicemail from Zack, because it is absurd.
I personally agree that it’s hilarious, but I felt it was funny only if you actually know Zack, (and all his “Zack-isms”), and know Jeremy (and all his “What-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you-isms.”) Bottom line– I’m not sure it’s entertaining if you don’t know our family.
“Dude. You could say that about literally 100% of your posts about us,” Jeremy replied.
Ok yeah.
So here you go.
A few things to know before listening:
- Zack called Jeremy and left this voicemail after coming home to Potomac, getting into Jeremy’s (constantly filled with endless amounts of crap) car and finding several overdue parking tickets. This was at the time when Jeremy was living in the basement. So let’s just say the family was on high “will-this-kid-ever-get-his-shit-together?!” alert. Jeremy has since moved out of the basement, so the answer to that question is “sort of.”
- I am not endorsing or condoning the word “retard.” I wish Zack had chosen any other greeting. That being said, this is the only time I’ve heard the term used and thought “Yeah. That works.” But if you’re offended, try replacing it with “asshat,” or “douchecanoe.”
- Zack is the younger brother (and youngest in the family). Keep that in mind as you listen. It makes his “lecture” subtly more hilarious.
- Chelsey was Jeremy’s girlfriend at the time. She was phenomenal, and my whole family loved her (that has nothing to do with the voicemail, I just fucking miss her.)
- Hang in there ’til the end. The casual, happy-to-help closing is gold.
Enjoy.
Transpondster
“Trump said ‘bigly.’ That doesn’t even make sense. How can he be president if he doesn’t make sense?” — 4th grader
Kid, I ask myself that every damn day.
I Don’t Know How to Do the Thing You’re Saying
Partly inspired by a scale that told him he gained 9 pounds in the past week, and partly due to my constant complaints of feeling fat, Eric convinced me to try a “Paleo Restart” 30-day program with him.
Even though he discovered this morning that the scale was wrong (um, obviously. 9 pounds in one week? #science), and despite the fact that I didn’t actually want to DO anything about feeling fat, I just wanted him to respond “That’s crazy, you’re not fat! It’s fine to eat that 9th Hershey Nugget!” (um, obviously. #science) he’s still super into the program. Plus, we already paid the $35 for it. So fine.
I went to sleep last night totally on board to start this weekend, but then this morning had a horrifying realization.
Oh, yeah. Why didn’t I think of that?
PROBABLY BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW HOW TO MAKE EGG SALAD, MUCH LESS MAKE THE FUCKING MAYO FOR EGG SALAD.
No.
I’m out.
May
Teacher Appreciation Week
Now that we’ve confirmed that Chipotle is ACTUALLY tainted with E Coli from feces, the free burrito offering to teachers during Teacher Appreciation Week makes complete sense.
“Thanks, teachers! Here’s a free hot steaming pile of shit– in a wrap! You deserve it!”
(I’ll still eat mine)
Paradise
Me (whining): “Errrrrric….”
Eric: “What?”
Me (stealing his coffee and drinking it): “I have a headache.”
Eric: <on his phone, likely trying to tune me out>
Me (drinking more of his coffee): “I said I have a headache! Are you listening?”
Eric: <mumbled, what-do-you-want-me-to-do-about-it response>
Me: “BUT YOU TOLD ME THIS IS YOUR PARADISE!!!!!!!”
Pretty sure this no longer applies.
The NYC Effect, Part 3
(Part of the The NYC Effect series)
The gourmet deli next to me has delicious, freshly prepared foods, but it’s not exactly efficient. Every time I go in, the line isn’t that long, yet somehow I end up standing in it for at least 20 minutes, waiting to order.
Today I watched the man behind the counter take the order of a woman a few people ahead of me in line. She asked for half a pound of coleslaw. He took FOREVER to prepare it. And once he did, he gave her way too much. She pointed this out, and he shrugged and said, “Eh, no extra charge. We’re not here to make money or speed you through, we’re here to make friends!”
The old, Maryland me: “I love that! How refreshing! A place in NYC that actually values human interaction over robotic, impersonal efficiency! And he gave her free food! I’m coming here all the time!”
Me after a few years in NYC: “Aw, that’s cute! But still. I’m kind of in a rush here…”
Me today: <immediately walk out>
I don’t need friends.
I need some fucking egg salad.
Now.
My Judaism Is Rusty, Part 2
Prince dies, and yet Trump’s sweeping victory is still the worst thing that happened this week.
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