But Where Does The Hate Go?

Just now I got a call from something at 206-683-49##. If you really want it, or they harrass me, I'll post the whole thing here and we'll have a field day.

Not recognizing the #, I answered with "Good evening, this is Geoff."
And I was greeted with...

"Hu-luh?"

I think that was a slack-jawed attempt at a "hello" or possibly a "hola." Maybe a "Helen?"

Then I said, again, "Hello, this is Geoff."

And was greeted with a "Uh blamba da miamo fublabama Mike?" No friggin' clue what else it was there.

So that was likely...

1. A person of foreign nationality with little to no grasp of the English language.
2. A person of undetermined nationality with little to no grasp of the fact that they are having a massive stroke.
3. Doug.
4. A kid making the lamest prank phone call in the world.
5. All of the above.
6. Somebody experiencing severe intoxication from inhaling their own flatulence all day.

Regardless, having had a long and illustrious career of prank phone calls, including the infamous "Hey, uh, I'm pretty sure I left my condoms under your bed. Oh wait, is this Karen's mom?!!?!?", the prank call has been demolished by Caller-ID, Call Tracing, and rising handgun ownership.

Parents? Kids? Education system? Crank Yankers? Somebody must be hated at for this idiocy. I really don't have time for it, either.

I have hate backed up to like March at this point. Maybe I'll just call 'em back and F with 'em from work. Sweet.

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