Clearly I haven't the right. My d-d-dear Chaaarles, I'm terribly sorry. What is our luck with cars? Dodie's died outright, and now between the two of us, we've shelled out close to a thousand dollars in repairs over the past month. Sigh. One day we'll have nice cars that don't dramatically die at the very worst times possible.
Car troubles aside, my dear soeur, we have v. different daily problems. Yours involve driving to posh hotels to get tickets for hollywood power players, mine involve taking phone calls from agitated transvestites named "Frrraaancine" (imagine that with an accent like Chris Kattan's when he played Antonio Banderas on SNL). Frrrraaancine was looking for, how you say? oh yes, guides on how to dress like a woomaaannn. Including something with maybe instructions on how to tuck his penis. I calmly and collectedly let Francine know in the politest of terms that we had books on transgender studies, and books on general appearance and dressing, but nothing like he described specifically. (All the while in my head I could hear Jimmy Fallon yelling "too sexy! too sexy!") Was this a prank call? Probably. But I didn't want to take the chance and then get bitch slapped with a lawsuit by an angry tranny later on just in case it wasn't. Of course my patience was sorely tried when about an hour later a thirteen year old kid called looking for the Pamela Anderson/Tommy Lee video.
I do not get paid enough to deal with this shit.
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2 comments:
heh heh. v funny my dear esme. am so exhausted from first day at new office where-upon i promptly slipt and fell down the last few marble steps to the lobby and bruised both my shins in a disgusting manner. sigh. some day I am sure this will be all worth it.
:( i feel so bad for you guys....I thought I had a bad day harassing people to fill out my survey, but my goodness.....
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