Oh hey, I love beanies. And I don’t know whose number that is, but if we narrow it down to places in NYC that Clarko would have called enough that he memorized it… I’m gonna guess the Disney Store. No wait, he’d want to embarrass me too. Hustler Club. Nailed it!
Jesus, Fish, way to ruin a joke. Heh. Jesus Fish.
OK, can everyone just be a sport and forget that it’s not really her number? Then, after you’ve had a few drinks you try to drunk-dial Maya and be horribly disappointed to see you’ve actually called __________. Then you can curse me, and you’ll be all like “That scoundrel Christopher Rattle Clark has foiled me again!”
It’ll be great.
Chris: Bryden’s ass-hand is Pizzata.
Maya: You love beanies hey? Then you will probably love this Zombie Beanie:
The only other number that Clarko would have memorised is the rejection hotline. It wouldn’t have been a conscious decision, but after having it given to him so many times it would have just sunk in.
I just realised I’m getting a raw deal when it comes to internet stalking.
I am the only Matt Titmanis in the WORLD (the world that is on the internet anyway). One google search and everything you could ever possibly know about me is one click away.
Meanwhile, all of you with your ridiculously common names. Jones, Clark, W I actually have to put effort into stalking YOU.
Sure it feels good when after an hour of searching various combinations of key words I manage to stumble upon your name mentioned somewhere in a school newsletter that leads me to find an old photo which I can then trace to a facebook page of one of your friends who has you listed amongst their 637 other friends.
But sometimes that feeling just isn’t enough to balance the injustice.