I had one call one time. Wanted to sell me a Girls Gone Wild video or something. I listened for a while and asked questions and then I asked him what I would have to do to get in one of those videos.
He started asking me questions. He asked my hair and eye color. Asked where I lived and what major cities I was close to and if I was willing to travel. Asked some more questions about my physical appearance.
I answered each one eagerly and enthusiastically. Flirted with him and just played along.
Then he asked my height and weight.
I got real quiet and asked if there was a problem with healthier than average girls and he said no, not at all.
I said "oh good! I weighed 610 this morning!"
There was nothing but silence and then there was a thud. I think he fell out of his chair.
I laughed all day.
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A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.
For a long time, our phone number and the power company outage number was very similar.
When there was an outage we got phone call after phone call.
I began "taking the information" after a while. You'd be surprised what people will tell a total stranger.
Had a guy call to tell me my computer was being attacked at that very moment. I asked him how he knew that and he said he was receiving a warning from my computer. why didn't he call the police I asked. He kept trying to explain why he wasn't calling the police. I kept asking if it was being attacked, doesn't he think the police should know? He finally just hung up.
The polling calls are great. I start asking my own questions. What do you think about Hilary's hair? Does Michelle really grow a veggie garden? Think she would send me some tomatoes? Why did Bonner wear that ugly tie? they don't talk to me long.
And then the ones that says the call may be monitored. I say something like "oh good, Me too." And then they want to know why I am recording and I ask why they are recording and I just repeat what they say. It gets funny after a while.
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A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.
