Lotti's response to my telemarketer grumble:

Hi! I have some good news for you re: today's blog. Remember how much I used to love making crank calls, then was so cruelly thwarted by the invention of *69 and caller ID? Well recently I figured out a way to enjoy the same high of crank calls without the threat of legal entanglements -- fucking with telemarketers.

I used to also see them as a terrible annoyance, but here's the thing... They are calling and disturbing you in the middle of dinner or whatever, and, because they are being "monitored for quality assurance," will get their asses canned if they're not nice to you -- NO MATTER WHAT. So those two factors now spell my opportunity to try out all my character voices and bad jokes on them, and they really can't do shit about it. It's really pretty cool, and leaves John and me in hysterics for a good 20 minutes afterwards (or just me if I'm home alone).

I'm glad you're using your powers for good instead of evil, Lotti. And I'm sure Mr. Butz, Mrs. Butz and all the little fannies appreciate it too.

[Note to my British-English readers: Fanny doesn't mean the same thing here. It means arse. So calm down.]

During one of my broker periods of college, I actually was the person who called you during dinner. Not, I hasten to add, as a telemarketer -- please don't send me hate mail. No, I worked for a survey organization. I know how sucky it is to be cold-calling complete strangers, so I never have the heart to be outright cruel to telemarketers, even if they are annoying.

That job was where I discovered just how damn fast I talk when I get nervous -- I don't bother to breathe. I had a couple of people ask if they paid me to talk that fast. Nope. Just me.

I figured out how fast I talk all the damn time when I moved to Hong Kong. Every time I opened my mouth I had to remind myself to sloooowwwwww dowwwwwwn or no one would understand me. It was very annoying. Keep up, people!