Debby Down Under

A friend and co-worker emigrated (Im proud to have remembered the difference vocabulary-wise) to Australia a few years ago. I wrote on her here on 12/13/2000. I had heard nothing from her at all since she left until I got the following in an email just a few days ago:

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Hey You, (properly I reckon I should say GDay Dude),

My communication capabilities are improving. I now have internet AND access to a SKYPE account at home. So, if I had your PHONE NUMBER I could call for a proper catch-up. Of course, all my phone numbers lived in my old mobile phone, not in my brain (not much support for life in my brain, you know)so, here I sit, on the rare weekend morning when the forces have all aligned to have me awake and not running late for something, while its not the middle of the night in the US, and I HAVE NO PHONE NUMBERS! AARGH! It could be weeks before the planets are aligned properly again. At any rate, how about reminding me of your phone number.Id love to here your cranky, smoke-addled, lewd and rude voice again.

Later,

Debby (in case youve forgotten, as I know youve gotten EVEN OLDER, and are probably beginning to lose brain cells at an even higher rate than previously due to simple alcohol and general over-indulgence, the Debby Givens who moved to Australia 2 years ago and has been sorely out of contact most of that time.)

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My response:

Hmmmm….I do VAGUELY recall some relatively not-too-unattractive Tom-boy who always smelled of horse manure who taught me the difference between hay and straw (and that remains her sole contribution to our relationship) and who after many years of trying (unsuccessfully) to capture a man, moved to an entirely different continent in that futile effort.

If this is that same loser, I can tell by the last name that you have been as successful with that endeavor as I predicted.

While I would love to catch-you-up on the happenings of my more successful self, I am heading out the door en route to Dallas (and I KNOW you remember Dallas).

[Sidebar: In the nine years I knew her, it was only on a single business trip to Dallas that she got laid by a transient airline pilot for Gods sake – as I remind her as often as I can.]

Im meeting two perverted, dirty old men such as myself whom I have known since the better part of you ran down your mother’s thigh, for a week-long journey into all that city can offer in the areas of drunkenness and debauchery. In other words, I’ve not changed much.

I’ll be back (or be in jail) next Wednesday (do they have days of the week in Australia?) so will get back with you then. My number is 225-555-5555 (office) and 225-555-5555 (cell).

Speaking of numbers…yours is still on the wall in the men’s room at Richoux’s. Having your calls forwarded?

Later

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Feel the love?