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April 08, 2009
So the Text Warble on My Cell Goes Off a Minute Ago
...and it's from an 805 area code, saying "Hey sexy".
Well, who wouldn't want to wake up to that, right? But I'm thinking I don't know this person, so I send back:
"Kinda early 4 that. Who this?"
"It's Angela. We met the other night."
I normally forget who I meet during the course of the evening, but I definitely remember whether I was out to meet anyone to begin with. And I weren't.
"Don't think so...where?"
"We met at Harrys bar and grill. we really hit it off and went back to my place. ringing any bells Nick?"
NICK?!?
"Not me, sorry. Check d number he gave u."
"I did. Omfg he fake numbered me after f*cking me! Damn!"
"B more careful. It's dangerous out there."
"Aww ur sweet. What's ur name hun?"
Good grief. (And the asterisk is mine ~ she spelled the whole thing out.) No lights going on with this chippy, bless her poor affection starved heart. Which set me up for my good deed of the day.
"I'm old enough 2 b yr grandma. B careful and not so quick 2 take some nick home. Have a better day."
Man.
Posted by tree hugging sister at April 8, 2009 08:56 AM
Comments
Hmmm..."who wouldn't want to wake up to that"...
Posted by: major dad at April 8, 2009 10:12 AM
Wow. Angela is a Dr. Laura call just waiting to happen.
I will admit to having fake-numbered people occasionally, but that was because he was a creep who wouldn't take no for an answer, and he hadn't even got to first base with me. (Do they still talk about "bases" any more? Or did that go out in the 50s?)
Dial-a-Prayer, if your town has the service, is a good fake number to use in the case of creeps.
Posted by: ricki at April 8, 2009 10:36 AM
805 being Santa Barbara, that's a Sue Grafton novel waiting to happen, too! :-)
The only time I've fake-numbered anyone is when I'm buying something in a store and the clerk says "Can I have a phone number?"
So I make one up.
I mean, they didn't ask for *my* phone number... just *a* phone number. And I'm pretty sure the one I give them exists... somewhere...
By the way, Harry's Bar and Grill used to make a great Cobb salad. :)
Posted by: Julie at April 8, 2009 10:57 AM
Where is this bar? Could this dope have swapped 850 for 805? Not out of the realm given the sobriety level she was probably in.
Posted by: major dad at April 8, 2009 11:16 AM
Nick may not even have been his real name. I mean, he lied about everything else.
Be careful yourself, Ms. Sister - these things can get a little out of hand. I remember being on the false end of a call where someone asked for a girl I'd never heard of. Wrong number, sorry, hang up... only to get a call a couple of minutes later from the same guy, now quite ticked, saying that she HAS to f'k'n be there, and that's MY girl, and DEMANDING to speak to her or else.
Posted by: nightfly at April 8, 2009 01:17 PM
Don't bring up Sue Grafton! My Bride was just saying last night how ticked off she is with her for being behind schedule on writing the next Kinsey book...
Posted by: Mr. Bingley at April 8, 2009 02:22 PM
Um, did you keep her phone number? I'm sure there are lots of people that would like to call her . . . You know, maybe meet for drinks. Etc.
:)
Posted by: Skyler at April 8, 2009 06:23 PM
The only wrong number I've gotten recently was a fax machine. Sigh.
Posted by: Retread at April 8, 2009 07:49 PM