Google Voice is Drunk

I use Google Voice, which transcribes all my voicemails and emails them to me.

Or at least, it tries to. Google Voice transcriptions feature all the reliability of a crackhead taking your messages and reading them back to you. Here’s one I received last week:

Hey mike at, either. Hey, I just wanted to get a chance. Bertha have Dr up on paper to get that. Okay, later. Thanks. Bye. 10. Paul If you can call me when you’re done with that crack time bye bye bye, general black guys. Gimme a call when you get a chance. And I’ll talk to you.

Let’s go ahead and analyze this, line by line:

Hey mike at, either.

Best I can tell you’re saying that I (Mike) am currently at one of two places, neither of which you reveal. Why you would tell me this when I, not you, am the one who knows where I am, is beyond me.

Hey, I just wanted to get a chance.

Chance at what? Are you auditioning for something? So many questions left unanswered. Well, at least it makes grammatical sense.

Bertha have Dr up on paper to get that.

I imagined a woman named Bertha drinking a generic Dr. Pepper knock-off called Dr. Up on a doily made out of looseleaf. But she’s having a Dr. Up on paper to get that? To get what? Is she drinking Dr. Up so she can have a chance at whatever the thing was you wanted a chance at? What a weird audition process. “You want this? Chug the Dr. Up! It’s this or the casting couch bitch, now chug this generic soda we bought for you at a machine outside Walmart!”

Okay, later. Thanks. Bye. 10.

Perhaps this person was saying “10,” like some people say “one.” So, instead of “One Love,” it’s “Ten Love.” Or, perhaps this person was informing me that I was in fact a ten. That’s a nice gesture. Or, perhaps this person was beginning to say, “10-4.” Or, perhaps Google Voice has shit in its ears.

Paul If you can call me when you’re done with that crack time bye bye bye, general black guys.

This is where the wheels finally come off. First off – no clue who the fuck Paul is. Whoever he is, apparently he participates in something called “crack time.” Which makes me feel better about his situation. At least Paul is an organized crackhead. Some crackheads just smoke crack at any time of day, or get too busy to do it at all. Not Paul. He sets aside an hour each day explicity for crack. He probably has an hour on his MS Outlook calendar labeled “CRACK TIME” lest he lose focus on his favorite pasttime.

I wish Crack Time was the weirdest thing in that last exchange, but that honor goes to:  bye bye bye, general black guys. First off, either the person leaving the voicemail or Google Voice is an NSYNC fan. Secondly….general black guys? I have two interpretations for what this might mean:

* This person is saying goodbye to a highly ranked military official with a ridiculous last name who would be played by Samuel L. Jackson. Or:

* This person is bidding adieu to the idea of dating/hanging out with ordinary or “general” black guys. From now on, only unique and extraordinary black guys! Bring on Urkel, Dennis Rodman, RuPaul, Prince, 1984 Michael Jackson, Seal, and Metta World Peace.

Gimme a call when you get a chance. And I’ll talk to you.

A fairly normal sounding ending to a not so normal voicemail. I did end up listening to the actual voicemail eventually, and it was not nearly as exciting as the myriad interpretations I had for the transcript. So, I choose to pretend the actual voicemail didn’t exist. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather live in a world where Bertha chugs sweet Dr. Up, Paul settles down for his daily ritual of Crack Time, and General Black Guys barks out commands to his charges.

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