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Good Sunday Afternoon, MyBloggerstown:
Here is some backround to the situation I am about to relate to you:
Some years ago, Cletus and Maybelleen had a tenent who lived in this apartment. The guy was a big creep and ran out owing them a coupla months rent. He left behind some crappy furniture and about 16,000 sports trading cards. Well, Cletus and Maybelleen sold the furniture to somebody but they couldn't get rid of the sports cards for some reason. So, one day Maybelleen was here inquiring about my tooth flossing habits when the subject of these cards came up. Now, I collect baseball cards and at one time had quite a collection which hard times forced me to part with. She asked me if I couldn't help her get rid of the cards (i.e. unload them on some schmuck) so she could recoup some of the rent the guy skipped out on. First though she wanted me to go through them and pick out the "good" ones because, let's face it, she and Cletus are two of the tightest people on the planet. They squeeze a nickel so tight Jefferson screams. She didn't want anyone getting their hands on a $1000 dollar card but her. So I sorted through and the rest we decided to place in the local Trader. The Trader is a weekly newspaper where people place free ads to sell cars, used household items, announce yard sales etc. So since I was helping her, she brings all the cards over here (they are sitting in my tiny living room right now being an utter eyesore) and has me put the ad in the Trader with my phone number. Well, we get a few nibbles but these people are cheap pricks too and wanted to get them for practically nothing. So today I get a phone call from this utter buttwipe:
Me: "Hello"
Buttwipe: "I'm calling about your ad in the Trader."
Me: "About the sports cards?" (like I have tons of other ads in there)
Buttwipe: "Yeah"
So I proceed to explain what the items were, there quantiy and condition and the asking price.
Buttwipe: "Where can I see these?"
Me: "Well, I'm up off of Waldo Ave. about two blocks from the library. It's 1313 Dipshit St."
Buttwipe: "I know where that is"
Me: "Super"
Buttwipe: "Do you have big boobs?"
Me (flabergasted): "What?"
Buttwipe: "Do you have big boobs?"
Me (snarling): "Oh for the love a.....you're real funny, pal" And I hung up.
I thought about calling the son-of-a-bitch back 'cause his number came up on the caller ID (a cell phone with no name, natch) and really giving him what for but I just called the cops instead. They were a little less than sympathetic with my plight so I now have my gun under my pillow. I doubt seriously wheather he'll appear. He's pro'lly just some perv who gets his kicks over the phone and doesn't have balls enough to show up live and in person but I am prepared just in case.
I mean to tell ya, the world is just getting nuttier and nuttier. I wonder what Maybelleen will say when I relate this episode to her? She'll pro'lly grouse "You should have shown him. He might have bought the entire card collection. " There is just no end to the excitement around here. None of this (getting shot at, flashed, talked dirty to on the phone) ever happened to me in The Flower City by the Lake.
For the record, yes I do have.
have a good week everyone
reguards
yer jogging and getting two black eyes pal
bugg
Have an awesome week Bugg!