That infuriating and mysterious battle between two common household objects --- both made of white porcelain --- which causes untold headaches, especially if there's only one person in the house at the time. You know the drill --- the telephone can be "silent" for hours, yet as soon as you plop down on the
toilet and are in the middle of a lengthy crap, THAT'S precisely when the 0%!$&#@
phone decides to ring, and so you have to awkwardly
jam a tissue-wad up your
butt and hold it there while you
penguin-strut with your trousers down around your ankles all the way across the living room to grab the receiver with your
messy hand, only to either (
1) have the caller hang up just as you are lifting the receiver, or (2) have it be just either a telemarketer or a bill-collector who'd dialed the wrong number, anyway, or (3) have the caller be a bored/crybaby/mooching neighbor who had nothing important to say/ask, but just called to shoot the breeze, whine about his miserable life (which he could easily improve if he'd just start being more responsible/diligent), or ask for a
ride, assistance with some ordinary task that he really could accomplish himself, or the loan of money/a vehicle/tools. So you'll have totally wasted your time/effort --- not to mention half a
bottle of Lysol to disinfect the
phone afterwards --- to answer the
phone that time, when the call turned out to be non-urgent and so you could have just let the answering machine take it.
Judge: Next case --- throne vs.
phone.
Phone, you are hereby accused of intentionally waiting to ring until your owner goes to take a dump. How do you plead?
Phone: Guilty as charged, Your Honor, but I can't really help it... I am unable to ring if there is nobody calling, and if there is a ring-signal sent through the telephone wires, I have to ring whether I want to or not. I don't like to bother my owner anymore than he does; I'm just doing what I was designed to do; it's the inconsiderate callers who should be the
real defendants here.
Judge: Good point --- case dismissed.
