I got a couple of weird phone calls this morning.
First, a woman called looking for Famous Dave’s. Ten minutes later, a man called, also looking for Famous Dave’s.
I told both they had the wrong number. Then, I get a call from the dude’s number again. I was sitting at the DMV by this point, so I just thought “WTF,” and let it go to voicemail. He called again a couple of minutes later. I ignored again, as I don’t want to explain that I am not Famous Dave while I’m waiting for the digitized voice at the DMV to call my number.
As I’m leaving the parking lot, the guy called for the fourth time. This time I answered with an annoyed “hello?”
“Hi, Matt?” (I’d answered the phone on his first call with “This is Matt,” since I didn’t recognize the number)
“Yes?”
“Is Rachel around?”
“Rachel? I think you have the wrong number. Aren’t you the same guy who called me looking for Famous Dave’s?”
“Yes. Do you know Rachel?”
“I don’t know any Rachel. Who’s Rachel?”
“She’s my daughter.”
“Well, I don’t know her, (silence), what can I do for you?”
“She told me this was the number for Famous Dave’s.”
“Some girl called me earlier looking for Famous Dave’s, maybe that was Rachel?”
“This number was in her phone, so you must know her,” the douche says, with a tone in his voice indicating that he busted me on something.
“Nope. I don’t know anyone named Rachel. Wish I could help.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”
Well, it turns out that there’s a Famous Dave’s with just one digit different from my phone number. So, when this guy’s sitting in a jail cell, he’ll wish he’d used Google instead of trying to beat the truth out of his daughter while yelling “who the fuck is Matt?”
This reminds me of when you thought the chick at the gas station was hitting on you by giving you her number and it turned out to be Justin’s mom’s number.
Nothing to do with the blog, I just like to remind you of that.
Matt, only you seem to have those weird stories, good to hear you arn’t banging his daughter.
Also, who is this Jeri Ann hillbilly?
-Mike
Haha. This Jeri Anne hillbilly was the last of my four co-hosts at my last radio job.
Never in my life have I been called a hillbilly. I have all my teeth, don’t own a shot gun and have never eaten walnut meat, that’s probably why.
Jeri Anne, you have to admit that you probably should’ve turned into a hillbilly. In fact, maybe it would’ve been better that way…
What, just because of my two names? Fine fine, maybe I should have been a hillbilly. But I know I have a definite spot in Heaven since I was stuck in a room with you for 4 hours every day for 5 months.
First off, I don’t think that’s how Heaven works. Check the Bible again. Second, relevance?