Call me!

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I never thought I’d see the day when prank phone calls were a thing of the past.  Such a tragedy, really.  What do kids do now, anyway?  Play Nintendo, instead of calling a random phone number (such as 867-5309) and asking them if their refrigerator is running, or inviting them to a non-existent party, or – as my sister was known to do in the early 80’s – ask them if they wanted to come “hang at my pad (she was 8).” We always gave fake names and fake addresses.  It was so fun, and I’m sure we really had them fooled.  Now no one would even answer their phone because of that stinkin’ caller-id (which I admit is the single best invention of the century).  If I don’t know you, or I feel too undercaffeinated or overstimulated, or if you are talking politics, I won’t take your call.  Grade schoolers can’t prank call me.  It’s such a shame.

That being said, I frequently ACCIDENTALLY prank call people.  I mean to call someone else, but I have slippery fingers (massage therapy job side-effect) and misdial.  It often takes me a while to figure this out (blonde hair side-effect).

I was home one morning, at the same time as my husband, which is statistically unheard of in our house.  Some military show was on, and to avoid the attack on my sense of hearing and my intact chi, I decided to take the dogs on a walk.  We headed out.

“wap wap wap wap wap wap wap wap”

About ten minutes into our walk, I heard a helicopter.  At first I thought it was hearing damage from the military channel.

“wap wap wap wap wap wap wap wap”

No.  There was actually a helicopter.  A military helicopter.  It was pretty close.  I watched it fly away and kept walking, becoming instantly distracted by my yellow lab’s insatiable appetite for prairie dog poo.

“wap wap wap wap wap wap wap wap”

What?  The same helicopter?  What is going on here?  I stopped watching the lab and started watching the helicopter.  The lab swiftly dove towards a prairie dog hole.  I pulled back on her leash while the pug peed on the hole.  Not very polite to the prairie dog, but at least he’s not going to contract the plague through peeing.

Once I had a semblance of control over my dogs I scanned the horizon.  There was that damn helicopter.  Making a big circle and headed back my way again.   Is the prairie dog field actually an undercover Al Khaida training camp?  Are those really prairie dog turds out there?   I don’t live in Afghanistan so I thought this was pretty funny.  I fumble around in my pocket and get my phone out to call my husband.  This is not the easiest task when coordinating two dog leashes and avoiding prairie dog excretions.

The phone rings.  Rings again.

“Hello?!” The t.v. must still be on, it’s so noisy in the background.

“HEY!  I can’t believe you called the CIA on my ass!”  I shout into the phone, watching the helicopter make another round, juggling leashes as I’m pulled down the trail to the next small pile of poo.

“Huh?”

“I said, I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU TURNED ME INTO THE CIA – a helicopter keeps circling me!  They’re hot on my tail!”  I’m kidding of course.  I think this is hilarious because I know my husband is sitting on the couch watching a similar helicopter on the military channel.

I wait for the laughter.

I can hear the television in the background.

“Um.  Who are you trying to call?”

Oh.  That’s not my husband, is it?

“Greg?  Oh.  Uh.  I’m sorry.  Um.  I thought this was my husband.”

“Ummmm.  No.”

“Oh god.  I’m so sorry.  Have a good day!”  I’m always polite.  I went to Montessori.  There’s never a bad time for manners.

He hung up.  I looked at my phone.  One number off.  I looked up, expecting the “wap wap wap wap wap” to be coming from a police helicopter by now.  It wasn’t.  I decided I’d better keep walking.

In my bubble I love my caller-id.  I can avoid people I don’t want to talk to.  I can answer my phone with a comical voice, saying stuff like “hey baby, what’re you wearing?” because I know who is calling me (usually).  Why did this man answer his phone?  Why didn’t he immediately call America’s Most Wanted?  Why don’t people ever call me with funny mix up’s like this?

Oh.

That’s because I don’t answer.  Better change that.  My bubble could use a caller-id vacation.   An old-school prank phone call or some heavy breathing would make me laugh.

If you’d like to call, my number is 867-5309.

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