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No sooner did I make that last post than one of the pains in my ass from a local law firm calls wanting something. Buddha H. Sweatpants. Don't these people ever clue in?

I wonder if I could get away with leaving the following voicemail while I'm away for the holidays:

"Hello, you have reached the office of Kellinator Jones. I'm away for the holidays, why aren't you? Please hang up the phone and go hug your kid. If you are from a local law firm and want something RIGHT THIS MINUTE, please hang up the phone and go fuck yourself."

Date: 2004-12-17 01:28 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] tikimama.livejournal.com
You should say something subtly guilt-inducing (you're Southern, don't you get lessons in that?) like "I hope you are enjoying a pleasant holiday season with your loved ones" which will sink into their tiny lawyer souls and remind them that they were once 4 years old and daddy worked too much. It's evil.

Date: 2004-12-17 01:35 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] teague.livejournal.com
Lawyers have souls? And where children?

*is joking. Once worked for a fabulous lawyer*

Date: 2004-12-18 06:12 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] notgruntled.livejournal.com
Good point. Southerners -- and especially Southern women -- are masters of the subtle body blow, the velvet dagger. No lessons are offered or needed; it's bred in the bone. As the historian Shelby Foote put it, "A Southerner will never insult you accidentally."

The more direct, more Yankee approach is George Carlin's: "Touch the little prick every now and then, and maybe he won't be mugging my ass in ten years."

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