So this afternoon, ballistabob and I are chilling in our oh, so comfy couch, when the phone rings for the umpteenth time. This time, I decide it's our turn to have some fun with these people.
"Damn!" says Bob. "Here we go again."
"Just wait," I say. "I've got a plan."
I pick up the phone and say nothing until I hear someone on the other line. My original intention is just to lift up the phone and regale the caller to the dialog of "Bridget's Sexiest Beaches," which we happen to be watching at that particular moment.
Alas, I don't know what comes into me and I start belting a heartfelt rendition to No Volveré, a Mexican ranchero song, to my unwitting audience in the other line.
Bob is laughing so hard that tears are streaming down his cheeks.
I finish my song and I politely tell them in Spanish, "Muchas gracias, y por favor llamen otra vez" (Thank you very much and please call again).
Then I hang up.
The phone hasn't rang for the past two hours.
That makes me really sad.
I've got a full repertoire of Mexican ranchero songs and no audience.
Such a waste of my talent.
C'mon guys, call me. You know you want to. You haven't lived until you've heard me sing La Cama de Piedra
I'll be waiting by the phone.