I found a cell phone recently in the gutter, not close enough to any stores or offices to make it obvious where to take it. I looked through its phone book to see if there was a “home” listing so I could call the owner, but there wasn’t. I rejected trying to call Big Jim, Wildthing, Mr. Mink, Pantboy, IceMan, R0x, T Bone, and T W A T, before deciding to call the number for “Mom” – which, as it turns out, could also have been marked home.


This was published on 02 Jan 2007.
A permalink to this post: my address book is so ordinary.

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