Why didn't You Just Give Me The Number To Joe's Pizza?

A, muttering: OK, here we go, deep breath. Aint no thang, guys do this all the time. You are The Bad Ass who asked for his number, and that man is just waiting by the phone for you to call. You hear me? Might as well make his day. That's right bitch, you're my good deed.
*starts to dial*
A: Ooh, wait, is that my call waiting?
*call is disconnected*
A: Guess not. OK, take two.
*starts to dial*
A: wait, maybe it's too late to call...
*call is disconnected*
A: 7:36 PM...well, maybe I'd be interrupting dinner. Wait a fucking minute, I'm not calling Matlock, now get some cojones and dial that goddamn number and get this over with!!!
*starts to dial*
A, muttering: You are a Hot Rock Goddess. You are a Bitch in Babe's Clothing. You Are..uh....Pat Benetar?
*one ring* *two rings* *three rings*
A: I guess he's not home. OK, Plan B, leave a message. Wait, where are my goddamn notes?!?
Female Voice: Hello?
A, in head: SHIT!
Female Voice: Uh, He-llooo?
A, in head: OK, maybe it's a female roommate?
A: Yes, hi...um...is...John there?
FV, very hostile: Who's this?
A, in head: Fuck, she wants my name! OK, hang up. No wait, don't hang up, there's caller ID, she'll call back and if I don't pick up she'll get my name on my voice mail...fuck goddamn cell phones, fuck modern technology, why can't we go back to rotary dialing and public payphones? I bet all those obscene phone callers would back me up...
FV: I SAID, Who's this?
A, in head: OK, maybe it's the wrong number. There's a lot of Johns in the world. Where's that stupid cocktail napkin?
*tries to read the sodden, red-stained white cocktail napkin with blurred ballpoint pen scribbled on it*
A: is this...310-569-225....8?
FV: Yeah, and you asked for John, and I wanna know who the FUCK this is.
A: *mind is gone* Eaaggrg...
*synapse fires in frontal lobe*
A, in fake southern drawl: Yeah, hello, this is Tammy Lynn and I'm calling from Pfizer to see if John received the free Viagra starter pack he requested?