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Friday, September 15, 2006Captain Obvious
Here’s how the recent phone conversation with my dad went:
“Hi Dad. Blair and I are going to the Dodger’s game on Monday night – do you think you could ask your friend, Mr. Smith, (who is the Dodger’s announcer) if he could show us around the announcer’s booth?”
“Oh, that’s right – I forgot. Yes, I’ll ask him today.”
“Thanks, Dad. …Do you want my direct phone number at work so you can call me back?”
“Uhh… sure. Hang on a minute, let me get a pen.” MY DAD IS A HIGH SCHOOL ART TEACHER. YOU WOULD THINK THAT HE WOULD HAVE WRITING UTENSILS AT HIS DISPOSAL.
“Okay, go ahead.”
“Okay, and that’s at XXX College?” I COULN’T RESIST… I CAME OUT WITH THE FIRST THING THAT CAME TO MIND.
“No, Dad. That’s my direct number for when I’m whoring around the streets of Hollywood.”