… I left myself on the answering machine….

31 01 2008

I’d like to start this post with some lyrics from The Tragically Hip.  While the entire song does not apply here, most of it does and in fact, the irony is quite amusing.  I’ll leave you to decide which lyrics fit.

“Boots Or Hearts”

Well I think that there’s a problem here
Her voice doesn’t sound right
But I left myself on the answering machine
Said “I’m back in town tonight.”
I feel I’ve stepped out of the wilderness
All squint-eyed and confused
But even babies raised by wolves
They know exactly when they’ve been used

See when it starts to fall apart
It really falls apart
Like boots or hearts when they starts it really falls apart

Fingers and toes fingers and toes
Forty things we share
Forty one if you include the fact that we don’t care
Now we’ve blocked most of main street
For our faith parade
Everybody in town now will probably all agree
I’m lying in the bed I made

See when it starts to fall apart
It really falls apart
Like boots or hearts when they starts it really falls apart

Now you won’t even let me talk to you
We got some air to clear
We’d probably only agree on one thing any way’s
That’s what the hell is happening here
See when it starts to fall apart
It really falls apart
Like boots or hearts when they starts it really falls apart
(thanks Tragically Hip)

Okay, so, yesterday, I got a phone call which I’m pretty sure was meant to wile (which it did).  I don’t really feel like getting into the details here as I don’t really know if/where this may go.
The short/public version is, I was accused of many untrue things (regarding former employment) and when I called the person out on it, they had a non-logical retort and well, Stephanie doesn’t take personal attacks very well.  Let’s just say that the medication did not work yesterday.
I digress.
If you know me personally, you know that when I know I’m right, I’ll argue with you.  Don’t F with my pride.  I don’t have much and the little I do have I plan on keeping.
So, one of the bold faced lies was a about a message left on my voicemail.
Today, the voicemail is blinking and I decide that ten year-old messages is a pain in the ass to manage.
I press play.
“Hi Stephanie” resounds a familiar voice.
Could it be?
Would I have?
Did I?
Indeed.  Indeed I did.  Subconscious Stephanie must have known that I was going to need that message and didn’t delete it from SEPTEMBER.
Boo.
And I counted at least three contradictions to the phone call from yesterday.
So, after the crying, the fit, the kitchen cleaning, and now The Message, I feel very beside myself indeed.

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