Whenever my friend, Matt Locke, gets my voicemail, he likes to give me crap about my Texas twang. He says it takes FOR.EV.ER. to listen to my greeting, so rather than the typical, “Hey, it’s Matt. Call me,” kind of message, he usually treats me to a parody of my outgoing greeting, delivered in his best southern accent. It’s too funny to keep to myself, so here’s one he left late last week:
Rolling on the floor…
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