The Forgetful Files Hotline

Hello and thank you for calling the Forgetful Files Hotline.

Your call is important to us.

Please choose from one of the following options, as our menu has recently changed.

To connect with the winning entry for our Father’s Day Writing Contest for Fame and Glory, please press ONE.

To hear the chirping crickets that came with that contest, because apparently Jolie has zero friends or perhaps all of her readers don’t actually have father-figures in their lives or maybe they don’t know how to type or probably they only kept the memories of when their dad caught them sneaking in after curfew and they just don’t think that’s funny, please press TWO.

To join Jolie in her Pity Party, please pour a cup of tea and press THREE.

For an explanation of why a fake entry wasn’t used to pretend there were at least two hundred entries submitted, even though Jolie can speak fluent “imaginary friend with a funny father story”, please press FOUR.

If you know your party’s extension and want to bring delicious flavor to it, please press FIVE.

To find out where Jolie and her dad spent Father’s Day, and to make sense of our recent Instagram photo, please press SIX.

If you would like some elevator music while you wait to be connected, please press SEVEN.

For a sneak preview of an upcoming blog subject, please press EIGHT.

If all you really wanted was five minutes out with the girls, because, seriously, if you had an extra ten minutes it wouldn’t be writing stories for a contest, please pour some pinot grigio, hide in the closet, and press NINE.

If you feel you have reached this number by mistake, please press TEN for verification.

Thank you for calling the Forgetful Files Hotline, and have a nice day.

images

2 thoughts on “The Forgetful Files Hotline

  1. Mike Harkleroad

    I feel terrible for you, I would have written a short story about my dad but I couldn’t think of any funny stuff. There was of course the serious things, how he would lecture about finances not smoking or drinking. Endless times fishing, off the shore and in our 14 ft. boat. I could have went on and on about the amount and size of fish, the long still hours of sitting waiting for a bite. Maybe and I could have explained all the different types of building he would teach me to do (through experience of course). With the building of a motor home in the early 60s and a VW dune buggy, roofing and sheds and concrete patios, rebuilding motors and transmissions. Oh yea all the outboard motor repair to keep the boat a float so-to-speak. I’m sure I would have bored everyone with the endless camping trips and driving sand buggies hundreds of miles in the desert. Over all I couldn’t think of a funny story (eating K rations in the middle of the desert with sand blowing , for Thanksgiving Dinner isn’t so funny) so I just didn’t write. Sorry your were disappointed. Give us another chance to write a story and we will do our best. Pressing 3 now, green tea please, with lemongrass.

    Reply
    1. Jolie Post author

      The beautiful thing about dads is, they aren’t in it for the fame and glory. They are mostly the quiet steady trampoline: fun to bounce around with but generally used as a launching pad for life. A dad’s glory is in the way his children love him, and that comes from how they choose to view him. I think your story about Thanksgiving in the desert has great potential, just like my contest that bombed. You can laugh or you can cry and I think the choice is pretty obvious if you can pull it off. Thanks for the love!

      Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.