The Answering Machine...

I abhor our answering machine. 

It's laziness really. 

Messages can only mean a few things:

Number One:

I forgot to do something

Number Two:

I need to do something

or

Number Three:

I need to sign up to do something that I will soon forget.

"This is the Mother God gave us?"

Or maybe it has it's roots in college.

See there was this time...

Billy and I were dating and we were in an awkward pre-DTR* stage.

I called and left a message on his machine in his tiny Little Henry's apartment on Cox Street in Auburn.

I don't even remember what it was about but I wasn't happy with the original message because I called right back and left another.

And then another.

And then another!

I'm telling you people it was like that scene in Swingers!

I think I left five ridiculous needy girl messages before I thought 'Oh, I'll just go over and leave a note on his door.'

When I got to his apartment I heard something inside so I knocked on the door.

He opened the door with a huge but uncomfortable smile on his face.

He opened the door wider to reveal a room full of people all sitting beside the answering machine.

I had forgotten he was having a study group over.

They had heard every single word of my messages.

Dang. 

I'm not much of a blusher but I can assure you that night I got very blushy. 

It was bad. 

Bad I tell you!

So avoid answering machines.

At least...avoid leaving messages on answering machines.

So...

This PSA was brought to you by needy girls everywhere.

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*DTR: Define the Relationship - every college boys worst nightmare.