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But wait, there's more.

There's just no polite way to say "Buy me things", is there?

Join codebastards, I dare you. Remember, codebastards are us.

I'm baded and jitter. So are these people. (And why not follow the previous, next, or random links?)

Need a band name?

Doug vs. Japanese Snack Foods: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

rant is where the heart is

diaryland: entry for 2001-04-01 (03:07:00)
In which our plucky young hero isn't Eddie. Really. Shut up, you twit.

Whenever caller ID says that the caller is in my own area code, you can bet amusement is in store. Tonight was no exception.




"Is Eddie there?"

"No, you have the wrong number."

"Is this [my phone number]?"

"Yes. It's a wrong number. It must have been reassigned."

"Who's this?"

"Not Eddie."

"So what's your name?"

"It's not Eddie."

"But what's your name?"

"Not Eddie."

(repeat 3 times)

"You're not Eddie? So did I wake you?"

"Well, I was about to go to sleep."

"Then you get some rest."


"Fuck you. [click]"

Gosh, 306-(see footnote), I'm sorry to have answered the phone on you like that.

Apparently every phone number I've ever had was previously owned by one of three different types of people:

To that end, I present my new answering machine message.

"Hi. You've reached Doug, who is the only person who would answer this phone. If you are looking for Doug, leave voicemail. If you are looking for anyone who is not Doug, you have a wrong number, and you will not reach that person. But you will get a return call explaining your mind-boggling drooling idiocy in words of one syllable or less if you still persist in leaving a message for anyone who is not Doug. Now, the beep."

I figure that should cut down the messages to only one a week.

(If they call back, you can be certain the phone number will go up for your education and entertainment.)

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anything said in lowercase sounds profound. say it to me.

[fiendish tracking device]