I just got a wrong number phone call. It was from the 760 area code, which is Southern California, San Diego area. It was wasn't your average wrong number.
"Ca ay tah ta roobem?" The person on the other end of the call said.
"I'm sorry?!" I said.
"Can. I. Talk. To. Reuben." The woman on the line said, rudely.
"You. Have. The. Wrong. Number." I said in return. Probably not as nice as I could've been, but come on. Don't mumble into your phone and expect me to understand you.
"Who do you think you're talkin' ta?" She said to me.
"I don't know," I replied, "You called me!"
"Whaaaa?!," she mumbled, chuckling drunken, "who da ya think yer TALKIN' ta?"
"I have no idea," I restated, "You called me!"
"Huh, huh, huh," she chuckled. "I beat the pants of people like you."
"Yeah, ok," I said, chuckling myself. Because I'm pretty afraid of being beaten up by people who live a few states away and probably accidently dialed my area code instead of theirs.
At this point, Brian whispered to me, "Just hang up! Or put it on speaker."
I put it on speaker as I heard her mumbling something about me being white, and chuckling drunkenly.
She mumbled something else incoherent, I asked what she said, and then she hung up on me. Good times, good times. I wonder if she figured out her error and got a hold of Reuben? I feel kind of bad for him if she did. But she didn't call me back, so that makes me glad.
It has been an uneventful weekend, so this was the highlight, at least as far as bloggy retelling goes. Friday night, we had dinner with my parents after Brian worked late, Brian worked Saturday, then we bummed around all afternoon. Today we took Gage swimming even though we discovered the heat is still off in our crappy community pool, had lunch, and went for a long walk.
And of course, we did laundry and heard from San Diego.