I just got a very weird voicemail from a restricted number. It was someone singing in a munchkin type voice about loving me in the butthole. I'm scared. LOL

I would laugh my ass off and be really scared as well!!

Every time I go to see my best friend in North Carolina, we call the contact number for booking this really shitty local cover band, and leave awesome messages on the voicemail. Sometimes, my besty makes up a long, rambling story about how he needs someone to come bail him out of jail. Last June, I left them a message saying I was "sick-and-goddamned-tired of these squawin' young'uns driving me nuts," and "Teeter still owes me about 40 damned chile support checks. Imma take his ass to court."

From the promo photos on their website, we have discerned they all have mullet haircuts, and the guitar player was probably kind of cute back in like 1987.

I feel a little sorry for whomever checks their voicemails, but it's become a tradition, and has achieved an almost holy rite status in the context of our friendship.

Oh my!

So I have this really odd cell phone number that looks like it's fake. When people ask me for my number and I give it to them, they think it's a fuck off. It's very symmetrical, balanced and there's an element of numbers in sequence. Anyhow, that's neither here nor there. The point is that it looks like either a total fake or a number to some business (you know how businesses seem to have these really easy to remember numbers that don't appear random: they appear deliberately selected; like 555-6789 or something).

Anyway, for years I used to get these hang-ups on my phone. Lots of late night calls. I used to have a really bad habit of answering the phone in my sleep so I cut the ringer off. When I'd check my phone in the morning, there'd be like 5 voicemail messages. All of them hung-ups. Weird.

Occasionally, I'd answer the phone and the person on the other end would immediately apologize and say that it was a wrong number. This, without even asking for anyone. They would hear my voice and know that it was not the right number. Oddly, to a one the callers were always male and it appeared that many of them had distinctly homosexual manner of speaking.

I get this one voicemail in the middle of the night. I check it and it's sounds like a bunch of girls, seemingly college or high-school aged. It sounded as if they were driving around in a convertible, tons of wind. They were clearly having a drunken good time. I hear them shouting into the phone "I want a booooooyyy-friend!! Gimme a BOOOOOOOYYYYFRIIEND!!!" Giggles on top of giggles on top of giggles. It made no sense.

One day, I check my messages and there's this guy on the other end. I'll never fucking forget it. He says "Fuck you, you fucking faggot. Get fucked in the booty hole. And eat some skittles." Wow. Epically bizarre.

By chance, I'm driving around in my neighborhood (I live in Midtown Atlanta and it's very much LGBT-friendly; like the capital of LGBT-ness for everything east of San Francisco) and I see a billboard with my telephone number on it. Except that it isn't really my number, it's one digit off. Apparently, there was a hotline for gay sex hookups that was a one-digit difference from my cell phone number.


That string of wrong numbers must have lasted for a good five years. It seemed to stop abruptly a few years ago. Right around the time that that sex-hookup app came out. I never did call the number to see what it actually said.