The phone call that every insane girl with a long distance boyfriend living in Chicago while she dwells in New York, for some reason, wants to receive on a Saturday night:
Dave: Hi babe, where have you been?
Me: I missed your call. I was on the train. Where are you?
Dave: I'm at Dave's birthday party.
Me: How does it feel to share a name with someone?* Are you having fun?
Dave: No. You're not here.
Me: Good answer. What are you guys doing?
Dave: Drinking beer and watching TV.
Me: You're getting old.
Dave: Yeah, I think that's what it is. I'm always tired too.
Me: Good - you're only allowed to have fun when I'm around.
Dave: What are you doing?
Me: Reading a book.
*I don't share a name with many people. There's an Icelandic writer with my name; an 85 year old lady who works at a movie theater in Del Mar, CA and some Australian lady who's on some show I hadn't heard of until stumbling upon its title during one of my routine self-googling sessions.