by riley

2009-05-15 02:12:39 PDT

i woke up to my phone ringing this morning, which doesn't usually happen for a variety of reasons including i frequently have earplugs in and i've never really been a phone person so people don't phone me. which works great for everyone involved really.

but this morning i wake up to my telephone because the earplugs have come out in the night and some asshole doesn't know the golden rule of "don't phone me but DEFINITELY don't phone me before eleven in the morning" because SOME OF US have exciting insomniac night lives that include video games and/or reading and/or touching dudes (no homo, i insist in futility).

so who this be ringin' on mah phone ? i wonder to myself, but me still being mostly asleep at the bullshit single-digit hour of 9.45 cannot for all the tea in china find my goddamned phone (it took me at least five seconds to realize the noise wasn't my alarm clock and hitting the snooze button with increasing levels of hostility was not stopping it) until i realize it isn't even in my room but off somewhere in the even worse bullshit place that can only be accessed by getting out of bed.

"fuck an entire 100% of that," i mumbled to myself, and dozed back off after thinking, you mess with the bull, you get the goddamned horns ! because in my sleepy halfbrained state i was convinced i was really fucking putting one over on those assholes who would dare telephone me. i mean REALLY putting one over on them; some straight Kaizer Soze shit is this not answering my phone when someone calls it business i'm thinking.

so i sleep for another hour, wake up to my phone ringing AGAIN, and i'm going, you know what you telephone calling dicks ? suck on THIS. and actually got out of bed, but get this: i don't head into the living room and answering the phone at all, because pwn#2 is coming down hard like a jackhammer as i bust a leff and instead take a piss while i laugh at my phone ringing plaintively in the distance. "you picked the wroooooong motherfucker to step to at such ungodly hours, you craven bastards !!" i yell into the comforting echo of my bathroom, not the least bit concerned that the only people who might hear me are my neighbours. i'll threaten them with porno again if i have to, i don't give a fuck. they're goddamned pussies too. i give myself an extra healthy piss-shake just as my phone gives up its wailing. osborne - 1, pack of assholes who don't know a single thing about anything - 0.

i finally wander out of the bathroom-- leisurely, mind you; i'm in no hurry for these milquetoasts-- and check my phone. two missed calls eh ? ask me if i give a fuck. answer: hell to that ol' nizzah my dowgs. sure i'll check and see who it is, but only because i'm standing here holding my telephone. and of course it's the surgeon from ubc i've been waiting to hear from for six months.

my bravado melts away as i make panicked choking noises like a dolphin trying to swallow two dolphins. i start pleading with my phone to ring again, but it just silently acts out the tables turning. i check the messages and the woman is saying to get in touch with her immediately because they've had a cancellation and can surgery my shit wit a quickness if i can stop frontin' for two seconds and answer my telephone, or at least swallow my pride and call her back. she actually says all this. i have no idea how she possibly knows what a petty little queer i can be sometimes but here we are, her honesty coursing through my body like a vile poison.

i call back and immediately get an answering machine. i leave a whimpering message like a dumped boyfriend begging to be taken back, "oh please fix my shoulder i'm so sorry i know i treated you badly but just give me one more shot surgeon, i can make this right baby, sob sob" and then sat staring at my phone waiting for it to ring.

ring, baby please call me oh god what have i done

but she doesn't call. and she doesn't the next minute. or the next. i go shower, and leave my phone in easy grabbing range. no call. i walk to work, no call. i work, i eat lunch, i mock the produce guy and sing the "sup shawty" autotune song i'm working on to the cute redhead girl at the till and SHE STILL HASN'T CALLED. i'm sweating and pleading with the universe to just make this happen, please just fucking call me. i've never ever wanted a woman to phone me this badly in my life, it's not even a contest. i mentally vow that things are different now; no more pettiness, no more cowardly acts of evasion. not just on the phone, in all walks of life. is that what you want universe ? it's yours.

she phones. she's very polite and professional and doesn't seem to be treating me like someone treats a man that has been reduced to a crumbling, weeping, praying husk, by which i mean there is no gloating in her voice and i find that very confusing but also promising. she informs me that my surgery will be on june 1st. she doesn't mention that she's made me a better, more complete man for going through this morning what she put me through, or more accurately what i put myself through, but she doesn't have to. everything she has done will improve me, physically and mentally.

i realize immediately what's going on and ask her to marry me because no woman has ever had this kind of impact on my life. she tells me she is flattered but also already married, and i weep bitter tears at how the universe continues to mock me. i rescind my vow of removing pettiness and cowardice and instead declare a new oath of tenfold depravity and wickedness. a true scoundrel, a more heinous villain than the world has ever known ! but then i spend a minute thinking about how much work that will be and instead half-heartedly mumble something about probably engaging in some slothfulness.

so: universe - 1, osborne - 0. we'll see what happens in the rematch once i'm 100% after surgery though-- i'm not making excuses or saying i lost because i'm injured, but i am saying i won't get caught making the same mistake twice. i'm going to train hard and come into this in the best shape i've ever been in for a fight. it'll be different this time.

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