Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

13 February 2012

When Telemarketers Go Rogue

My phone rang at promptly 8:01 this morning, which, in hindsight, should have been my first clue.  But as I had spent the previous 9 hours being kicked, nudged, farted, snored, and drooled on, my defenses were down and I was weak.

(Seriously... one of these days, when it isn't so fresh and painful, we need to discuss the Ninja Fart that Dan dropped on me last night.  That thing hovered for at least 45 minutes and rather than dissipating, it grew stronger and more powerful over time.  When I told him about it this morning, he couldn't wipe the smile off of his face, so proud was he of his prowess in foul and odious Ass Gas.  One of the main differences between men and women are their reactions to being accused of emitting an award winning fart.  Women:  *looking horrified* "I did not...!!"  Men:  *grinning happily and looking pleased*  "Really?  It was that bad?  Awesome!")

So what happened next was somewhat inevitable.  And totally not my fault.

Like I said, my phone rang.

And I was still recovering from a night of horrific abuse from my sleeping husband.  (I think I have a new episode of Snapped! recorded, come to think of it... I need to check my DVR.  Wait... what was I talking about?)

Oh yes.

I stared stupidly at the Caller ID, wondering who the hell I know in Brownsville, NY.  (I think it said Brownsville... maybe it was Browningville.  Or Browntown.  I dunno.  Brown something, NY.)

I know NO one in Brownsomething, NY.  In fact, my knowledge of people in New York is something like 12.  I know 12 people in New York.  That should have been my SECOND clue.

Me:  *as weak and defenseless as a kitten*  "Hello?"

Caller:  *speaking in a lilting and musical Indian accent and sounding almost brutally cheerful*  "Yes, hello please?  This is Danielle?"

Me:  *as I said, my guard was down*  "Yes, this is Danielle..."

Caller:  *sounding so damn happy that it was me!*  "Hello Danielle!  I am so happy to talk to you again!  This is Jason!  You remember me, yes?"

Ummm... Jason?

Wait... Jason?

(Okay, the Indian accent should have been my THIRD clue.  I don't know anyone from India.  I KNOW I don't know anyone from India.  Why this fact didn't occur to me, I can't tell you.  But there ya go.)


Me:  *frantically searching my mental rolodex for Jason from India*

Jason?  Are you there?  Behind Oprah?

Me:  *coming up blank*

Me:  *frantically searching my mental rolodex for anyone named Jason and only coming up with the fat, obnoxious, bombastic douchenozzle that married a former friend's equally fat, equally obnoxious, equally bombastic narcissistic sociopathic daughter*


Jason's wife?

Me:  *deciding it couldn't be him*

Me:  *brilliantly*  "Ummmm..."

Caller:  "We had such a lovely talk just a few weeks ago!"

Me:  *uneasily wondering if I have a secret life that even I don't know about that potentially involves a delightful mixture of Bailey's and Ambien*

Oh God... Jason?

Caller:  "You do remember me?"

Me:  "Uhhhh... no, I'm sorry..."

Caller:  "Oh, I am so saddened to hear that!"

Me:  *feeling guilty, for God only knows what reason... but dayum, y'all... he sounded so sad!"

Caller:  "We had a lovely chat about your 2007 GM Envoy.  The warranty on that vehicle is about to expire..."

Me:  *coming to life*  "Wait... are you freaking kidding me?  Number 1, we sold that vehicle at least two years ago, and Number 2, JASON, if that's your real name, WHICH I DOUBT, I know for a freaking FACT that the LAST time we had our "lovely chat" I told you to put me on the Do Not Call List, like, immediately, if not sooner."

Jason:  "Yes, of course!  The 2007 GM Envoy is sold!  And now you're driving what vehicle, again?"

I think one of the suckiest things about modern technology is that viciously pushing a button to disconnect a call doesn't offer the same satisfaction that slamming down a receiver used to have.  Ya know?  I really, really miss violently hanging up on people.  

And in my fantasies, this is how it all went down...


  1. One of the greatest things about having children, other than using them as my wine slaves (kidding) is the fact that when they were younger, I could totally hand the telemarketers to them and they either chatted their ear off with nonsense or drooled and breathed on the phone. You know what you could do, is record the epic gas your husband has, and just play that while you talk to them and be all, "OHHHH, Yeah, what a release" Maybe they wont call you back then??

    1. My darn kids had to go and grow up and move away and stuff. DAMN them.

      Could I maybe borrow one of yours next time??

  2. Hahahaha your commentary was GREAT. I'd probably feel the same way...who'd i forget? What's happening? Who are you??!?

    1. I know, right??!! I'm all, "OMG WHO THE FUCK IS JASON???"

  3. Oh yuck. I would have been SO freaking pissed to start my week off with a chirpy telemarketer.

    I like a good phone slam too. Maybe you need a bull horn for special occasions like this.

    1. I like Andrea's idea of the combo door slam/phone click. She should patent that.

  4. Wait, I'm sorry...did you say something after describing the Fart Ninja because I might've been laughing to hard to catch it?

    Stand near a door with your cordless phone---I love a good door slam!

    1. Oooh... good idea! I am BRILLIANT at door slamming!!! I never thought of that!!

      Ninja Fart: One that is smelled but not heard.

  5. You have my sympathies about robo calls and shit, but really, you're being way too nice about the monster farts. I live with this menace every day, and I'm plotting the demise of the gas monster. It's THAT BAD. And we, delicate flowers that we are, SHOULDN'T have to take it. Please call him out on his business, and tell if you have any success. I've started stomping off to sleep on the couch so I don't vomit. (Though perhaps that would teach 'im?...Oh, wait, I do all the laundry, so that would be self defeating.)

    1. The Ninja Farts are definitely an issue. I had to hold my breath while I tried to find a bottle of body spray on my night stand, which I then hosed his ass down with. It was truly brutal.
      I've yet to find a cure... and have also stomped off to sleep on the couch, not that it matters to him. He finds his farts way amusing than he finds me, I'm pretty sure.

      One of these days I'm going to invent a device that connects his ass to his nose so that no one other than HE has to smell that shit. Seriously.

  6. Goose 1: How we gonna get her today?
    Goose 2: I know! Let's get JASON!
    Goose 3: Not that freaky Indian telemarketer dude?
    Goose 1: Yeah, him!
    Goose 2: And get him to call while she's still asleep! This is gonna be good!

    Geese snickering outside your window during the call:
    *unholy snickering from all 23 of them* Heh heh heh...honk...oops. Heh heh heh...

    1. You're evil! So, so, so evil!!!

      Damn geese. I shoulda known...

    2. Brilliant, Jo. Just plain brilliant.

  7. That's like some sort of guerrilla warfare situation you have going on in your bedroom at night. My question is....why don't you kick HIS ass out to sleep on the couch. Damn, Dani. Really.

    And if anyone called me early in the morning and said he was Jason, I would probably freak out because that is my ex-douchefriend's name. Bad connotations, dude. DON'T ANSWER THE PHONE.

    1. Like I said, I was weak and my defenses were down... I was still reeling from the Ninja Fart attack.

      Dan is 6'2 and a petite 260... I could kick until the cows come home and he won't be moving off the bed.

      After all, his snoring, farting and flailing don't bother HIM...

  8. In 9 days my old phone number is h i s t o r y. I am eXcited. No more cell phone. Now Skyping in a mobile manner.

    1. Tres excitement! In CA we got rid of our landline and were strictly mobile, which took care of the problem for us, but since our phone, internet and cable are all bundled up together, we have to ride out the contract before we can do that again.

      Stupid bundles...

  9. Jason?? OMG!! Jason!! Did I drunk text you last night?? I TOTALLY meant to tell you about that rash & what the Dr. said. He gave me this cream... Hello?? Hello??


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