Dr. D is on surgery call this weekend. When he first explained it to me---something along the lines of "yeah, I'll get called in if someone's appendix explodes"---I was like, okay... there aren't that many appendixes in this town that are ripe for the rupturin'. Right?
Unfortunately, there was at least one. We were all set to go get frozen yogurt for a mini Friday night date when his pager started to chirp at him, in far too chipper of a manner for a date-ruiner, if you ask me.
I know I should probably prepare myself to have a lot more Friday nights end up this way, but I'll allow myself to be indignant at least this once.
Pagers. Seriously. Who uses pagers any more?
For any of you 30 Rock fans out there, I'm reminded of the following exchange between Liz Lemon and Jack Donaghy:
Liz- "Okay, very funny. You bought a pager from Dennis. Will you take it off now, please?"
Jack- "Oh, I can't. I'm expecting a call from 1983."