Skip to main content

People want me. At odd hours.

By revolutionaire.
I haven't really officially informed people to no longer try calling the 5307 number to reach me. However, I guess it's catching on.

I went to bed around 11 on Tuesday night and, with my phone on silent, I missed two calls --- one minute apart --- from this phone number: 352-821-2317.

Then, this is my favorite part, at 4 AM today, I missed a phone call from this phone number: 352-317-9445.

Who are you people?





** I got a text from the number that called me at 4AM that said:

"wh0 da hell y0u is I get money ho'"

I called her, she answered and when she heard my voice say "hello," she hung up. So I called her right back and got her voice mail, naturally. And I left her a message ripping her the nicest new one I could.

"Right, I didn't complain when you called my number at FOUR this morning. I didn't even try calling you back at a ridiculous hour as retaliation. I just let it go. But when you text me something as ridiculous as what you just sent, I had to step in. You had to have known when you got my voice mail that you'd called the wrong number. But you clearly decided that wasn't enough, and you texted me this afternoon anyway. When you hung up, that was the last straw. You called the wrong number, Weirsdale -- yeah, I looked you up. Don't be a dick about it. You know you did. Don't continue calling the wrong number. Don't apologize or anything -- just don't continue. Have a fantastic afternoon."

Comments

Samsmama said…
That is absouletly hysterical! I got a series of stupid texts one night. When I realized that the guy needed a ride, I text him and told him he had the wrong number. His response? "Why you gotta be like that, dawg"? I responded that I'm no "dawg", but a "mutha" trying to sleep. He quit texting.
March 23, 2009 at 5:13 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Go Relax! (And I have a question for my readers.)

By revolutionaire.
Okay ... maybe I've been under a bit of stress lately. I'll admit, I have a tendency to carry a packed schedule. And for the most part, I can do this quite well. But there are times -- and I think they come in waves -- that I need to gtfo and decompress. This is why you suddenly find out I went to the beach, or was MIA for an entire weekend. It happens. It's been happening for my entire adult life. Those who know me, either embrace it, or get over the fact that I'm not changing. But I have to confess, even for me, the schedule lately has been an overwhelming one. At the end of May I was looking at my calendar and realized from that day through the middle of July, there isn't a single vacant weekend. I wish I were kidding. As much as I love being busy and having parties, volunteering, getting together with friends for coffee, and all of that fun stuff, if I don't get to take a long, retardedly hot shower every few nights and turn my phone off from time to time, ...
5 comments
Read more

This Just In...

By revolutionaire.
One of my favorite members/clients just called for the second time today. He is one of my favorites because he's always polite, asks to talk to me when he needs something he knows is my job to do, and always says he appreciates everything I do here. Earlier he said I sounded tired and that I should catch up on my sleep all weekend, the second time he called, he said I sounded a little better, but I must have partied far too hard. When I told him I actually worked last night, he said, "wow, you work two jobs... dang girl." I've decided I'm taking that as a compliment. This just in : I hung up the phone after taking a message from him and it immediately rang back. When I answered it, it was him AGAIN. This time I laughed when he identified himself and said, "you just want to talk to me, don't you?" His answer was actually yes. When I politely declined, he was all, "oh, I understand. Could I talk to Fred?" When I turned around to look for Fred...
10 comments
Read more

603.

By revolutionaire.
I never told you this story, but when I was a three, I had to have physical therapy for a broken femur. Every single day we drove to PT, we went over a small, fairly insignificant overpass with had a shopping plaza below it. The address for the shopping plaza was just barely visible over the bridge. And it was 603. And every single day as we went over, I would excitedly blurt out the numbers to show my mom I recognized them. This turned into a game for us. And eventually, a tradition. Fast forward into my "more grown up" ages ... like ... high school. And, if you could be a fly in my truck, you would have without a doubt witnessed me driving over the overpass by myself and, sure enough, I'd just say it ... "six oh three." Shortly after high school is when I met Seth, Tommy, Leif, Troy, and Jonesy in Gainesville. Still, there was no connection. Their friends and families came to visit, we then bonded, they returned home, and still, nothing. It wasn't until th...
5 comments
Read more