Voice Mails Which Did Not Result In Callbacks

Hey Dave, Tim here. I'm such an idiot. You know how I always play the dates of my mother and father's birthdays in the lotto? Well, damned if I didn't win. I know, it's like 280 million or something. Anyway, I left my jacket at your house on Thursday and I'm 99 percent sure that the ticket is in the left side pocket. I swear, if my head weren't attached... give me a call when you get in and I'll swing by to pick it up. The ticket. You can have the jacket. Talk to you soon.

Greg - Stan. Listen, when you asked if that bomb in the basement was armed and I said no, I hope that you understood I was saying no, it wasn't not armed, as in, it wasn't armed before, but it is now. In retrospect I probably should have just said yes, it is armed, but Katie's been getting my help with her grammar lessons this week, all on double negatives, and damned if it hasn't gotten my head all turned around. Long story short - yes, it's totally armed, do not, under any circumstances go down there. Sorry for the confusion.

Hi. You don't actually know me, but I saw you on running in the park the other day and I noticed that you dropped your water bottle. It fell right out of your hand as you went past that trashcan, but I was able to get in there and get it back. It's pretty nice, looks like an Aquifina, empty, but still, I figured you'd want it back. You seemed really sweet. You can tell a lot about a person when you follow them in a car for 56 blocks. Based on your movements, your silky black hair, your lithe frame, your glowing skin, I really felt like you were the kind of person I'd like to know. By the time you got back to your house I was so nervous I couldn't say anything so I looked up your number with your address, and... I guess I'm rambling... what I wanted to say was that I have your water bottle and I'd really like to give it back to you, and then if you're interested we might get coffee, and then... who knows. Wouldn't it be a funny story for a wedding, like giving a toast and talking about how we met because I dug your water bottle out of the trash. I don't want to sound weird. I hope this isn't weird. Anyway, the important thing is that I have your water bottle. Call me.

Look Clair, I've been thinking, and I feel like it's time for you to decide. I'm confident that you'll recognize, as I have over these last few weeks without you, that what we have is special. I understand your attraction to Steve, and I know that he's a famous male model from a wealthy family and that I'm still managing this Starbucks until my aluminum foil based sculpture gains the recognition it deserves, but it takes more than just endless fancy dinners and a few appearences in the society pages to win over the girl I know. It takes sincerity, honesty, and love (re: the ED, I'm going to look into some Viagra as soon as I get that raise, and until then we can always cuddle). I'm not wild about it, but we've been through a lot (remember when I cut your hair while you were sleeping and sold it to a wig shop so I could afford to bring you home to meet my folks?) and I think that even this infidenlity is something that we can overcome. But I can't continue to be the bigger man with you and Steve showing up in People every week. It's made it hard to explain to people that we're still together. Shit, I need to make a couple double mocha lattees, but I guess what I really wanted to say was I think I'm going to have to insist that you make a decision, once and for all. Him or me Clair? Him or me?




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