I must be one of the only people around that gets hand-clappingly geeked out to receive a message on their answering machine that says, in a horribly Transylvanian accent, and by a voice that sounds like no one I know and yet everyone I know, "Good evening, I vant to drink your blood" and nothing more.

Whoever it was who left it: a tip of the hat to you, my delightful Transylvanian friend.

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