I stayed out late on Friday night. Between a party at a friends house and the final performance by Fever Hot! (my favorite local Ramones-style punk band), I ended up hitting the pillow on my bed rather late. A pretty fun night overall, but the kind of fun that requires a bundle of solid sleep hours to recover from properly. That was not to be the case.

Around eight on Saturday morning, the phone rang. Everyone who knows me realizes that calling early on the weekends will get no response. Four rings, the answering machine clicked, no message left. A half an hour later, the phone rang again. Four rings, answering machine, no message. A half an hour later, the phone rang yet again. I heard my roommate stumble from his bed and answer the phone. Before too long, I heard the phone slam down. That could only mean one thing--the telemarketers had us on heavy rotation.

The first four times the phone rang, I fell back asleep fairly quickly. My body was tired enough to keep my mind from kicking into gear. By the fifth time, I was not so lucky. I could feel my thoughts beginning to wander around aimlessly yet consistently. This was a sign that my attempt at good sleep was a failure. I sat up in my bed and looked at the clock. It read 9:30. I had only been in bed for six and a half hours, and the latter two hours weren't exactly quality time. I stood up and stretched. Like or not, my Saturday morning had begun.

One thing I should explain is that I don't have all the little phone extras that the phone company tries to sell. I only have one phone line, no Caller ID, no instant messaging, no cell phone, no call forwarding, no call blocking and no call tackling. The phone has a homemade version of call waiting which I assume was installed by the retired engineer who used to live in the house before me. Neighbors politely said the man was eccentric. Other than his gerryrigging, the phone is as basic as it can come. There's a simple thrill when I pick up the phone blindly and find out a good friend is on the line.

Before the coffee was finished brewing, the phone rang again, and I picked it up. It was not a good friend.

"Hello?"

(long pause)

"Hello, may I speak to Mr. or Mrs. Jungle?"

"No, not today. Thanks. Good-bye."

I've always disliked the fact that people had access to my phone number, and yet they did not know I've been single since birth. Almost every piece of information I fill out makes me explain my relationship status. That's a minor bother, though. My main problem is that they had already called me six times ON A SATURDAY MORNING!

After that, they called about once an hour, and each time I refused to talk to them. I wasn't mean or bitchy. They kept asking if they could talk to me, and I kept saying 'No.' I don't know what their strategy was by calling so much. Maybe they assumed that if they harassed me long enough, I would break down and buy whatever they sold. Or at least, they thought I would listen to them. Wrong. I have never purchased anything over the phone from someone who blindly called up my number, and my plan is never to do so. After about twelve phone calls between 8:30 and noon, the telemarketers gave up all together. I survived the barrage without losing my temper too much.

The thing is this--I know it's probably very legal for telemarketers to call as rapidly as they can redial. We've got this election coming up, and all I hear about from Bush and Gore is tax cut, social security, education and gun control. All good topics to address, but none of which affect me personally one way or another. Do any of the candidates want to take a stand against my long time nemesis, the telemarketer, or do I have to hope for Shaft to walk into USWest headquarters and kick some serious ass in the name of restful Saturday mornings? Either way, I know I will be waiting for a long time for results.

And the longer I wait, the more the phone rings for no good reason.

Chris Jungle still picks up the phone when it rings... it might be important.