Cell phone woes

[mrissa]

Dear Person Called Vlad:

You have given your friends the wrong phone number! They are leaving overseas-toll messages in languages I do not understand! Please stop them! When I have the cell phone with me, at least I can explain to them that I am not you (do I sound like someone called Vlad?), but the messages in my voicemail are rather alarming. Cease! Desist! Check your records!

Love,
mrissa

PS If you are that Person Called Vlad, I think I know what number you want for whatever information you're trying to convey, but you'll have to call me yourself.

Comments

[mamapduck.livejournal.com]

Have you read the saga of Tasha and Javier in my journal? Vlad's friends may be calling you about his penis.

[scottjames.livejournal.com]

In that case, certainly don't answer from any numbers you don't know! Ack!

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

As long as they want to talk about his penis in languages I don't speak, I don't much care.

[voidmonster.livejournal.com]

Let us hope it is not this Vlad.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Am hopink. Er, hoping.

[mamapduck.livejournal.com]

[grin]

I have a woman who has over time had the following evolution of thought:

That my number is her boyfriend's
That her boyfriend gave me his cell phone
That I am a "hoochie" trifling with her man
That I have some sort of profound relationship with his penis
That calling me and leaving rambling voice mails about it will help

There is high drama in the world of Tasha and Javier, two people I have never even met. And yet, I am central to it.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

I think the word "hoochie" really makes this story. If she left you voice mails about you being a bee-yotch or a whore or something like that, it wouldn't be half so amusing. Err. To those of us not living through it, I mean.

[anne-mommy.livejournal.com]

I get angry calls for someone named Abdul. Angry and Arabic. I don't know who this guy is, but he's really ticking people off, and then giving them my number!

[cadithial.livejournal.com]

For a mere $100000 to free up our funds in Nigeria, we will gladly give you $50000000 once our accounts are accessible from the west again. :)

[kythiaranos.livejournal.com]

When Doug was in grad school, someone knocked on our door in student housing one morning. It was no one I'd ever seen before.

"I'm here to see Fang," he said. (Or it could have been Vang. Something like that anyway.)

"There's no Fang here," I said.

And he said, "Are you sure?" Like maybe I would have a Fang in my basement without knowing about it.

Someday I'm going to write that story.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Our last mistaken cell phone people tried to argue with me. The fella was Mike, and his friends were clueless, desperate, or both.

"Is Mike there?"
"There's no Mike at this number."
[pause] "Is this Megan?"
"No. There is no Mike here."
"Could you and Mike maybe have accidentally switched phones? Like, at a party or something?"
"I have had this phone for years. It has all my phone numbers programmed into it. It is my phone. Mike is an idiot and gave you the wrong number."
"...Oh. Okay. Sorry."

Once somebody called, left a message, and called back, all in the wee hours of the morning. The first call and message beep had awakened me, so I took the callback, disabused the caller of his hope for Mike, and hung up. In the morning when I checked the message, the guy had initially said, "Mike...I'm at the bus station here in White Bear Lake...are you going to pick me up, dude? I thought you were coming for me. I'm going to try again in a minute. Okay...bye...."

Poor Friends Of Mike, stranded in WBL.