In this segment I tell humorous personal anecdotes. If you hate personal blog posts, skip this; there's plenty of non-personal stuff on this blog as well.
I was driving home the other day when my cell phone gave off a message alert. It was a picture message, so I was excited. I figured maybe it was a picture of me eating donuts from a garbage bag or something zany like that. Saying it was not zany is a masterpiece of understatement. It was a pic of a shirtless muscular guy I never met before.
It was the closest I've come to being raped by my cell phone. I pulled over trying to piece the puzzle together when I got a text message saying something to the effect of "Great convo last night. Have a good day at work-Mike."
The plot thickens.
Not to nitpick over shirtless meathead mobile phone etiquette, but shouldn't the message come before the pic? But I digress.
It was time to set this guy straight, no pun intended. I called him and let him know he had the wrong number. He was confused because he claimed his lover texted him back.
But he sent it to the wrong number; how could she have texted him back?
This is impossible unless I am living some schizoid Tyler Durden multiple personality relationship with a shirtless guy I don't remember. All I know is that I've never needed a new phone so bad in my life before.
NOTE: I just got texts from David Fincher and M. Night Shymalan for the rights to this blog post.
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1 comment:
Clue number two: hetero men never refer to their girlfriends as "lovers".
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