Sorry, Wrong Number

So, about 0330 Friday morning, my work phone rang, and no message was left. Later investigation revealed the caller was from the Fresno area. Obviously, this was a wrong number.

Because it woke me the fuck up, and I'm me, at 6:30, I sent a text message to the caller, so that -their- phone would also ring in the middle of the fucking night. It was nothing spectacular, "Wrong number at 330 am kinda sucks" or something.

They called again at lunchtime yesterday. This is where it gets good.

Yes, it was definitely a wrong number. The caller explained himself that the only reason he'd called as late as he had, knowing it was a Tampa number, was because every other number he'd dialed on his quest for a particular service had gone to either voice mail or an answering service, so he assumed that this one would, too. We chatted amiably for a few minutes while I reassured him that I was most definitely not the person or business he was looking for.

That would be a support and advice service for an affiliate of "How To Be a Player (or perhaps Playa)." Somebody was trying to ask me for advice on picking up and getting laid by women.

Since, naturally, I was playing World of Warcraft at the time, I pointed out that I'd only be able to hook him up with some Night Elves or Gnomes.


He sounded like he'd be okay with that.



CHECK, PLEASE.

Why the bailout is a bad idea.

http://ikilled007.livejournal.com/1012750.html

Peter Schiff > Henry Paulson et al

Today's Forecast

... appears to call for scattered stockbrokers and economists.

This is probably why skyscraper windows don't open.



I may not be an aerospace engineer or a gastro-enterologist, and I won't necessarily know which direction the feces are coming from, what the person ate, or which direction the fan is blowing, but I can sure as hell tell when the shit hits the fan.

Blame chesch.

( onoez, it's the yootoobz )