"Hi, or as we say where I am from... OHIO! Ya reached Tommy, boy, and now ye get stripped, whipped and chocolate dipped! Hahahahaha! All kidding aside, my name is Tom Timothy or Tomothy for short, and you either got my machine by accident, or you're calling to sign me up for my first gig! I'm an undiscovered entertainer and I would love to perform at your comedy club, comedy show, bris, barbecue or birthday party. Please leave your message after the beep and please, don't call me Timmy Tommy, and finally, since I'm pleadin' for what I'm needin', give me the power, give me the glory, praise Jesus, please, please, please to God almighty... try the fish. I know I am. Beep! Oh, wait -- the machine says that."I hung up and called again so I could copy the message into my journal.
That poor guy is never going to get a gig in his life. I'm still trying to decide whether or not the Jesus/fish/I Am thing is supposed to be a subtle joke. Maybe there is no Jesus/fish/I Am thing, and I'm just giving him too much credit.
And (incidentally) screw the bank -- they're not one of our clients and they're making me angry. The fax I tried to send was an unnecessary courtesy, so I'll let them figure out that they're giving out the wrong fax number.
Anyway, yeah. That's um, pretty much my news for the day. Oh, except for the fact that I sent a tongue-in-cheek message to Corn Mo after the concert, and he posted it and his reply on his tour diary -- check out the Letter from Madison and Reponse to Madison. I'm slightly embarrassed by this, but the sentiment is genuine.