Nothing wakes you up like a call from a drunken stranger at three in the morning, asking you who you are. Except, perhaps, being told to stop being an "uptight bitch" when, on the third phone call, you finally ask her what she wants.
Thanks, Trish.
Oh, and if you really want to "make it up to me," STOP TALKING AND HANG UP, for fuck's sake. And the next time you lose your phone at the bottom of what I can only assume was a keg of Keystone Light, maybe try not being such a perfect asshole to a stranger who, if she'd actually stolen your phone, probably would not have picked it up three times in the middle of the night.
Our generation, ladies and gents.
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