Spinaroonie
LOOK WHAT I FOUND!
- Joined
- Jul 29, 2000
- Posts
- 17,721
In response to the telephone number thing, which I'm still not sure what it really was, Teddybear posted his phone number- in a random order.
So, with the temptation out there and the mathematical chances of getting it right a little bit lowered when you consider that the first six digits have to go into a certain area, I played a little phone roulette. So I get a list of area codes and suffixes and start imitating the scene from sneakers where "C Tech Astronomy" becomes "Too Many Secrets". SPOILER. Oh. I should've put that before the spoiler. SPOILER- I didn't have scrabble (TM) pieces there since they don't have number tiles. It's just a bad metaphor.
Anyways, so I try a few things guessing on an approximation of TB4P's location postings, which, in retrospect, I should've paid a lot more attention to.
The first five times got me "no longer in service" messages. The sixth got me U-Haul. The seventh got me a woman. Did I interupt TB4P in the middle of pre-coital banter? What's the fuss? Tell me what's happening!
Woman: Hello?
Me: Is Tee Bee Four Pee there?
Woman: WHAT?
Me: Tee Bee Four Pee!
Woman: OH LORDY!
Me: what
Woman: JAMES! IT'S THAT GUY AGAIN!
Me: what
Woman: THIS IS YOUR LAST OBSCENE PHONE CALL, PERV!
Me: Teddybear? Is a man named Teddybear there?
Woman: YOUR SICK GAME IS OVER!
Me: Sorry. Wrong number.
So, all is good for about an hour and a half and then somebody knocks on the door. I answer it and it's a squad car. See, in my town there's more cops per person than there are in Las Vegas. It's a speed trap town so the cops don't have a whole fuck of a lot to do.
So they start asking me if I've been using the phone. Uh oh. They told me that a lady reported a STRING of obscene phone calls over the past three weeks and has just now gotten caller ID and found that the most recent call has come from my house. Uh oh. They ask if anyone else was home. They weren't. Uh oh.
Long story short: Non-kinky handcuffs, never tell a cop you know your constitutional rights- they don't give a fuck, small town prison cells are kinda empty on Mondays and when you do get a cell mate, they won't want to talk much.
Lesson: Luck sometimes kicks you right in the groin.
j/k
So, with the temptation out there and the mathematical chances of getting it right a little bit lowered when you consider that the first six digits have to go into a certain area, I played a little phone roulette. So I get a list of area codes and suffixes and start imitating the scene from sneakers where "C Tech Astronomy" becomes "Too Many Secrets". SPOILER. Oh. I should've put that before the spoiler. SPOILER- I didn't have scrabble (TM) pieces there since they don't have number tiles. It's just a bad metaphor.
Anyways, so I try a few things guessing on an approximation of TB4P's location postings, which, in retrospect, I should've paid a lot more attention to.
The first five times got me "no longer in service" messages. The sixth got me U-Haul. The seventh got me a woman. Did I interupt TB4P in the middle of pre-coital banter? What's the fuss? Tell me what's happening!
Woman: Hello?
Me: Is Tee Bee Four Pee there?
Woman: WHAT?
Me: Tee Bee Four Pee!
Woman: OH LORDY!
Me: what
Woman: JAMES! IT'S THAT GUY AGAIN!
Me: what
Woman: THIS IS YOUR LAST OBSCENE PHONE CALL, PERV!
Me: Teddybear? Is a man named Teddybear there?
Woman: YOUR SICK GAME IS OVER!
Me: Sorry. Wrong number.
So, all is good for about an hour and a half and then somebody knocks on the door. I answer it and it's a squad car. See, in my town there's more cops per person than there are in Las Vegas. It's a speed trap town so the cops don't have a whole fuck of a lot to do.
So they start asking me if I've been using the phone. Uh oh. They told me that a lady reported a STRING of obscene phone calls over the past three weeks and has just now gotten caller ID and found that the most recent call has come from my house. Uh oh. They ask if anyone else was home. They weren't. Uh oh.
Long story short: Non-kinky handcuffs, never tell a cop you know your constitutional rights- they don't give a fuck, small town prison cells are kinda empty on Mondays and when you do get a cell mate, they won't want to talk much.
Lesson: Luck sometimes kicks you right in the groin.
j/k