Skin off a teenager..

(voicemail to Shel). Hey sis, so I am surfing the net and there is this ad for younger skin. It says, "She was born in the fifties" and has a pic of Madonna. Okay so far. Then I read the copy. She is over fifty and has the skin off [sic] a teenager. And I realize, Oh my God, she really might! Anyway, guessing you're still at yoga. Call me when you get home. Love you. Bye.

My sister Shel never answers her phone. Literally, never. Even if you are talking to her and accidently hit the end button when you call RIGHT BACK you will still have to go through the whole answering machine message and then just start babbling until she picks up.

Not to mention she has this huge house so even when she is home it might take her a while to get to the phone so you have to sit there and just keep talking until a) you hear her voice on the other end or b) her snotty-ass machine hangs up on you.

I am sure if she were so inclined she could keep me out of public office with some of the messages I have left on her machine.

Example:

Oh. My. God. You should see the guy I am looking at right now. Major hot. So hot. Umm, humm. Baby come to mama! Oh crap! He heard me! Shit, the window was down. Damn damn, uh, gotta go.

And of course she doesn't turn the machine down when she has guests. She says her friends find my messages really amusing. Great. So now the guy who put down her carpet knows that I made the fatal error of wearing a fluttery skirt on a windy day and flashed some poor chick at Cups. And to make matters worse I was wearing my old Victoria's Secret panties that say "LOVE" across the butt. Except my ass has gotten so big that it no longer says Love but instead reads more like" LUUUUUUUUVVVVV". Yeah.