Every time a cell rings a demon gets its wings.

Somebody with a flippin’ private phone number called me at flippin’ 5:15 this morning! What kind of sadistic bastard would do that to me!? What’s worse, instead of the soothing soft notes of the Indiana Jones Theme Song, private calls replace my beloved ringer with a default. That noise, coincidentally, is the loudest, most obnoxious known to man. It will effectively put 5 feet of air below anyone within earshot….and it stops the hearts of every bunny within a 2 mile radius. (It’s very hard on the rabbit population…that’s why they procreate so rapidly…it’s a natural selection response to my cell ringer.) “Right, Kimberly,” you say. “Quitcher bitchin’ and change your ringer.” It’s not as simple as that. I very rarely get private calls; so I make a quickly-fogotten mental note to change the ringer before Satan himself gives me a jingle again. Further more, if I didn’t have my early morning death ringer to bitch about in my blog, I’d have nothing better to talk about. I might even have had to brag to you all about having just bought a new 30 gig video ipod, making me the coolest person alive (humor me)…but I won’t.

BTW…if you call me at 5:15 tomorrow morning, I’ll hire a monkey to throw poo at you.

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