Google Voice cracks me up
Our friend Rachel, who got married last December, hooked us up with a couple basketball tickets next to her parents this past Sunday. Though the first idea was to take my father-in-law, who has been visiting this past week (and is a Florida State alum) he chose to stay behind, and so Valor experienced his first trip to the Dean E. Smith Center. Final Score was UNC 79, FSU 58, so Valor probably had more fun than his “Papa” would have.
When we got to our seats, I was pretty impressed we got lower level. We were on row P on the baseline, which is about the altitude of the shot clock. Not so close that there was any risk of Reggie Bullock diving into our lap to save a ball, but close enough I thought we might be visible on national TV. So I called home. Abby didn’t answer, so I left a message:
Hey Abby, might not be able to get this message, but we got awesome seats—you might even be able to see us on TV. If you look at where North Carolina is at half-court, I’m on the eastern North Carolina side, right behind the basket on row P, so… going from A to P, I don’t know if the cameras will make it up that far, but I’m like right behind the basket on the eastern North Carolina side. I’ll try to give you a call back a little later. Love you, bye.
And since we use Google Voice, the message was sent to our email with the following automatic transcript attached:
Anyway, I had to get this message. Spent, we have an awesome see you know I didn’t get the society. The, but I know that we are and I’m going to genocide right back in the backyard baby. So. Yeah, I don’t know if you’re not picking up. Let’s make it up yet. But I’m not that bad. Bastard. I’ll be sure that I decided I’ll try to give me a call back. I love you, bye bye.
Genocide right back in the backyard, baby. You can’t make this stuff up.