You Just Can't Shut Me Up...Please Pay My Bills

You know those irritating TMobile commercials where you listen to randomers blabber about stuff and then at the end Catherine Zeta Jones tells you to “go ahead, talk it out!”?? Well, hey Catherine, F you, b/c I have gone ahead, I have talked it out. And I can’t afford this habit.

I am v. good about never going over my minutes. And then last month my cell bill was double what it usually is, and this month it was quadruple what it normally is, and no, for once, I’m not speaking in hyperbole. The people I talk to the most, my parents and this other person as of late, are Cingular so they are free. So who am I talking to? I don’t know. I just printed out my TWENTY-SEVEN page phone bill and am going to try to figure it out. I am also abusing the old text message. The problem w/ those things are that if you send one, you are bound to receive one, and if you receive, you are bound to send. So one turns into 2 and then before you know it you are over your allotment. And every text I ever send is usually really stupid anyway. So, if you are reading this, and I text with you, please don’t text me back anymore. Or just stop texting me. And calling me. And don’t pick up when I call.** In fact I think I think I’ll just become a hermit. Which is sad, b/c I just got a new Bluetooth headset for my phone (had to give in b/c my earbud thing always fell out b/c I guess my ears are misshapen) and I won’t even be able to use it if I become a hermit…

You know what though? Let’s continue w/ the irony. Along with my sick phone bill, I just got the bills for my 5 vocal therapy sessions. They apparently were $450 a piece (don’t worry guys they are covered by insurance, although I do have to pay all my deductible, which bites) but anyway. You see, it’s funny: The girl w/ the big phone bill is the one going to vocal therapy sessions b/c she has abused her vocal chords. Do you see the irony? Do you get it?? I don’t think my vocal therapist would approve. She would take my phone probably, and send me off to be a hermit that sits around blowing bubbles through an oversized straw into a cup of water, counting in sets of three, and repeating “Me, My, Money.” (Umm, if you are utterly confused and have no clue what I’m talking about, these are things I had to do in vocal therapy to help readjust my speaking voice as I “suffer” from “nodules” on my vocal chords: http://www.asha.org/public/speech/disorders/nodules_polyps.htm

And shit. I know what you are thinking right now. “She writes too much too.” I do. It’s true. Veeve and Roo basically told me over the weekend that you just can’t shut me up. I guess you can’t. The end.

**Please don’t stop texting/calling me!! That would be sad.