I Only Want It If It Is Exquisite

It was probably the worst day and time to go to the post office. Just a few weeks before Christmas, prime mailing time. It was also 1:00. Everyone though that was a good time. It was not a good time. In fact, it was right smack in the middle of the worker's lunch so there was only one cashier to assist the ever growing line.

I had no choice. My swap buddy needed her gift and I had sold some DVDs that I can only presume were going to be Christmas presents.  So I waited along with everyone else.

Midway to my destination, I noticed the guy in front of me and took a really good look at him.  He was wearing dress slacks, a mid length black leather coat, a hat that was somewhere between a cowboy hat and a fedora, and rose colored glasses.  

He also had nothing in his hands whatsoever.

Unusual as most people had multiple packages and envelopes in our hands and we were all trying to figure out where to set them down to ease our burdens.  So I wondered why the man in front of me was there.* Finally, we reached our destination and he was next.  He stepped up to the counter and very quietly and with great concentration said:

"I would like one exquisite stamp."

While I tried to wrap my head around why someone would wait in line for almost an hour, the cashier tried to find him an exquisite stamp:

"How about this one?"

"Nope."

"This one?"

"Nope."

He eliminated them all until none were left and finally settled on one.  Then he wanted to pay his 42 cents or whatever and take one stamp.  After much debate, he was told he would have to buy the whole book and that he could not, in fact, have just one exquisite stamp.

I guess you can't always get what you want, especially if it is exquisite.

Here's hoping you got everything you wanted today and throughout the year!

Merry Christmas,
Peace and Love,

 

Knock! Knock! Mo Fo Karma Wants Her Five Dollars Back

Sometimes karma doesn't come around until much later. So much later, in fact, that the person wishing for karma to come back around never really knows if it does. That was not the case for my friend last week.

My friend was on her way back to the office and stopped to get gas. She noticed a beat up old van with a walker visible in the window and a man that appeared to need assistance. He told her that he just got out of the hospital and needed gas money to get home.  Feeling in a caring mood, she offered him the $5 that was in her wallet. He graciously accepted it and thanked her profusely.  Before my friend could put her gas cap back on, he was gone. He did not get gas.

That got her goat.  

If she had a goat.

You know what I mean.

Karma was on duty and caused my friend to look across the street where she spotted the man's van pulling into the liquor store.

That got her goat.

See above.

She hopped in her car and went to the liquor store. She rushed inside and found the man, not even buying liquor, but buying a lotto ticket. Then it went a little something like this:

She:  Gas money? REALLY? Gas? Where's the GAS?

Man: What? It's only a lottery ticket.

She:  I want my $5 back! NOW!

The man rifled through his pockets. The cashier grinned and gave my friend a thumbs up. The man then said he must have left it in his car.

She: Oh good. Then I will just follow you out to your car to retrieve it.

Apparently, he did not think she would go through with it as when they got to his van, he pulled the $5 out of his pocket and meekly handed it to her. Then he got THE LECTURE:

She: You are what is wrong with people today! You are what makes people like me not want to give to people in need because they might get scammed by people like you!

Then she went to her office.  Still mad.

Without her goat.

Or is it with her goat?

I don't even know what that expression means. I do know that there is a man out there that might think twice before he pulls that scam again.

Or at least maybe buy his lotto ticket at the gas station.

 

P.S. The first part of my title is from The Bloggess. If you are not reading her blog, you should be. In fact, you should start with this post.

Pay It Forward 3: It's B's Turn, but Someone Almost Does Die. Charity is Hard.

This weekend was B's turn to pay it forward. Unfortunately, things did not go as smooth for him as the two times I paid it forward. In fact, at some point, I think B regretted his decision to pay it forward and, if possible, would have paid it back. Probably with a swift smack upside someone's head. But I digress.

We were up north at our cottage retreat and decided to take a break from watching Jersey in the lake to get some dinner. We pulled up to the hamburger joint in town, also known as the bar. Side note: Everyone goes to the bar. Even the babies. And that reminds me of the movie Sweet Home Alabama where Reese Witherspoon says to her friend "You have a BABY. In a BAR." I love me some Reese.

I digress again.

So we pull up and to our surprise there is a front row parking spot. As quick as we could yell "SCORE", we were in the spot and I was out the door. At that moment, B motioned to me to get back in the car. A guy asked him to leave the spot because he had his mom with him and she was elderly. So B decided to pay it forward and give them the spot.

Not as easy as it sounds. We started to back up. A car stopped for us, or we thought. As we backed up, the car started honking. I started yelling. B started cursing and threatening to just "take the damn spot back." But all was well. Stupid car kept driving. We found a spot a half a block away. Man and old mom parked really close. I told B he should feel good and he did. The guy thanked him profusely and we went in for a burger.

And as we sat in the bar, eating burgers and ruminating about how many babies were in a bar, the waitress came over with a beer for B. The guy with the mom also paid it forward.

So the cycle continues...

Tales From the Courthouse: Presentation is Everything, Until You Forget What You Are Presenting

As I sit here preparing for my court appearance tomorrow, I reminded of the nonsense I witnessed last week.

As usual, we were all crowded on small benches in the dreary hallway, waiting for the almost indiscernible sound of the courtroom door unlocking. Heard only by dogs -- and lawyers, naturally. Although the legal world is large, the world of lawyers that actually go to court are quite small. You see the same people time and time again. Naturally, camaraderie and inside jokes develop.

So when a woman gets wheeled down the hall on a gurney, strapped down, accompanied by two EMS personnel, an attorney says "That's not good" with a cynical chuckle. Another ponders if it is one of our colleague's clients.

However, when the gurney stops at the bathroom, and the woman, immediately after becoming unstrapped jumps off the gurney light as air and runs inside easy as can be, we all stare in disbelief. In fact, I say to the guy across from me "Did she just....", as he answers "Yes. Yes, she did." To think, I thought I have seen it all.

She is then heard yelling in the bathroom "I know law more than you do!" I am going to have to respectfully disagree lady. Presentation is everything and even though the gurney and the neck collar were a good start, the free moving limbs and sprite movements completely destroy the picture you are trying to create.

As she was wheeled away, we heard her mumble "This medication is making me crazy. I need to talk to an attorney about this"

That's not all you need to talk about.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring...

It Really Isn't Easter Until You Have Insulted the Easter Bunny in a Passive-Aggressive Letter

Good things happen when computers break. It is true, just ask my Mom. Her computer broke about a month ago and it took about a week to fix. She said she would be okay. She was wrong. Toward the end of the week she started cleaning! Cleaning! I told the computer guy to put a rush on her computer. He got it to me the next day.

Good things come when your Mom's computer is broken and she starts cleaning. What good things? Oh maybe letters you wrote as a kid that she dug up from some old trunk in the garage that until that moment in time was mainly used as an indicator that your car was up as far as it could go. The trunk is kind of dented.

Good things come in letters written by children. Especially letters to the Easter Bunny. Do children even write letters to the Easter Bunny? Where do you send it? I need answers! I should have answers because as you can see below I wrote one myself. Wherever it was supposed to be sent, it obviously just went to my Mom. I don't mean to ruin the surprise, but I am pretty sure she was the Easter Bunny. Don't tell the children.

I would like to say I was very young when I wrote this. However, I signed my name in cursive. Also? It is quite deep for a child. Peruse for yourself:

In case you cannot read that clearly, it says:

Dear Easter Bunny,
I, Yesterday watched: the Easter Bunny is coming to town. It was cute, but some of it was scary. Have a Happy Easter. You know what Easter is really when Jesus died on the cross, not really eggs and other stuff like jelly beans and things. I think you shouldn't even come to kids houses because you know it's really to think about Jesus and when he died. But it's still fun having you.






And the second page...

My bedroom is a MESS. I still want you to come. I LOVE YOU.

Danielle

That, my friends, is the very definition of Catholic guilt. When your religious side clashes with your secular side at such a young age, there is nothing to do than to try to rectify it by insulting the Easter Bunny while inviting him into your messy bedroom. Just like the Catholic church. Or dating.

So, with that, I hope that the Easter Bunny visited your house, messy or not, and brought eggs and jelly beans and all that "stuff." Or, if you are religious, I hope you thought a lot about Jesus and his death.

But I hope he didn't visit your house literally. That would have the makings of a bad horror flick.*

*Is there such a thing as religious horror genre for films like a religious porn genre?**

**Wait. Is there a religious porn genre? Don't tell me if there is. I liked it better when I didn't know the answer.

What Do Suicidal Jumpers, Train, Hobos, Hookers and Strip Joints All Have in Common?

These are all things I encountered on my ride home the one night. Not my usual trip, that's for sure.

Because of a suicidal jumper, the freeway was shut down for over 6 hours. Six hours up on a bridge. That man ain't a jumpin'. What did happen, however, was that my typical 45 minute drive turned into 2 hours.

For the first hour I traveled down a stretch of road spending most of it twittering since I wasn't moving at all. I also talked to my Mom. I then decided I needed another course of action and turned.

Thereafter I passed the area where the man was hanging off, or on, or around, a pedestrian bridge over the freeway. Know what I saw? An entirely different bridge full of gawkers. Um, nice. What do you want to see? A rescue? A jump?

I then traveled through a seedier part of town hoping for less traffic. Wrong. However, what I did find was:

1. 3 strip clubs
2. 2 hobos providing an explanation to the lady in front of me as to why traffic was so bad. Not sure why she decided to ask them. Their answer: "turn BACK" with arms flailing. It was a one way road.
3. 1 hooker/hitchhiker. She glared at me so I did not pick her up. If she had smiled, well...
4. 1 ridiculously long train into hour two

I mean, really, a TRAIN? It actually felt as if I was in some poorly written comedy where the heroine (that's me you know) is stopped at every angle from reaching her destination by whatever ridiculous means the lame ass writers can throw at her - potential suicide (check), freeway closure (check), crawling traffic (check), gawkers (check), hobos telling people to go in the wrong direction (check), hitchhikers (check)....um, what else? How about a train! Perfect.

Just perfect.

Crime Watch Wednesday: Twice the Trouble!

This week's crime watch chronicles brings us the story of a bicycle struck by a car. Not just any bicycle, however. This was a tandem bicycle. Observe:

A driver struck a tandem bicycle as he turned right at the intersection. The driver stated that he did not see the bike as it entered the street from the sidewalk. He made sure to check on both the cyclists to see if they were injured. They were not. Despite the rear tire being bent, the cyclists continue on their way, in tandem.

Okay, maybe I added those last two words, but let's review. You could not see a tandem bike? How could you miss it unless when deciding to turn right you only looked left? That can be the only explanation. Knowing the people around here I am surprised that a baby buggy seat thing was not attached to the back thereby making the tandem bike about two cars lengths long. How do you steer one of those things? I have enough trouble with my cruiser.

On another note...I recently spotted a person riding a tandem bicycle alone. Alone! It was the saddest thing I ever saw. It does not matter that the person was smiling. I know in their heart, they were crying from loneliness.

One person should not ride a bicycle made for two.

Fact.

Former Attorney, Teacher...Poet

Yes, I am an attorney. And, yes, I have been mistaken for a teacher. And, yes, I do like to make some mad rhymes occasionally. However, this post? Not about me. It's about our backyard neighbor. Remember I alluded to the fact that there was something odd about those backyard neighbors? Oh there is. They never cut their back grass.

Ever.

Now, I am sure you are thinking "Dani, a lot of people don't cut their back grass, so what's the big deal?"

Well, they still go in the backyard. They sit out there. They converse. They read. They write.

THEY EAT MEALS.

B believes they are about to get malaria any minute. Seriously, look at my covertly obtained picture:

That table with the white chairs and green chair? That is where they eat. Can you see how tall the grass is? Can you see all of the weeds? There is even grass and weeds growing up from between the rocks that their table is sitting on!

Here are more recent pics:

From almost ground level:

Oh, and yes, they were out there when I took those last two pictures. I just pretended that I was taking pictures of our flowers. I am a super spy I tell ya.

I probably shouldn't be surprised that their grass is like this given the condition of their blinds. But the fact that they continue to go out there and sit there like they aren't in a jungle, and eat out there? That is a bit too much for me.

And the fact that she planted a garden. Yes, she took the time, all day in fact, to plant a garden. She has not touched it or the grass since. If you look really closely in the top right corner of the third picture near the fence you will see her garden. (Hint: look for the red leaves). Go look. I'll wait here.

Crazy, right?

You know what is also crazy? The husband and wife made out the entire time she was planting that garden. They are probably in their mid 60s. I thought she must be dying or something. Yep, I am cynical.

As for the title? B got to talking to their next door neighbor and I guess the subject came up about what our backyard male neighbor does all day since we have seen him in that back room with the crazy blinds all day every day (when he is not outside that is). The neighbor responded with:

"Former attorney, teacher, poet."

I kid you not. This inspired B to google him and sure enough he is all three of those things. Of note on one site was the fact that he has kept a journal every day since May of 1976. Since then I have seen him out there writing or journaling. I imagine he is writing this:

"Day 364 - we still haven't cut the grass. On another note, the steak we ate last night out on the patio under the stars was divine. Off to the doctor to have this terrible rash looked at."

Office Shorts

It's been a while since I posted about the office. Here are some things I have been collecting:

Partner: The milk of human kindness flows through my veins.

Reply by passerby: Yeah, sour milk.

*

After receiving a warning at work not to download the Blackberry operating system update because there were bugs, the following conversation took place:

Girl: Did you get the email about Blackberrys?

Me: Yep. I didn't download it.

Girl: Should I tell other girl?

Me: No. She has an iPhone.

Girl: What's the difference?

Me: It isn't a Blackberry...

*

So you are calling someone in my office and you get my voicemail instead. I say I am out of my office. I do not say I work for the person you are trying to call yet you feel it is appropriate to just continue on with your message anyway..."Yeah, this message is for so and so, this is stupid and here is my phone number. Oh and tell him it is about this...no wait, it is about this. Yeah, tell him it is about that."

Yeah, I'll get right on that.

*

Girl 1: Can you smell that stinky cigarette smoke on her? (Referencing girl that just walked in)

Girl 2: No but I have allergies.

Girl 1: I think it is because you smoke.

Girl 2: What I can't smell stinky things because I smoke?

Girl 1: Exactly.

*

Secretary to person on phone: "Oh what a weave and the web is tangled..."

*

Partner: Did your clock go haywire?

Secretary: I am not late, am I?

Boss: No, you are early

*

What a boss likes to hear:

Boss: What is on your schedule today?

Employee: You, you and you.

Riddles Are Easy When You Cheat

Potbellys always has riddles. I never know the answer even when pressured. They had the same riddle for days last week:

A sundial has the fewest parts of all time pieces. What has the most?

I thought about it once, decided it was making my head hurt and never thought about it again. On Friday, when I was in there, a guy strolled up behind me and said, without any preface:

"I haven't given this much thought but an hourglass?"

Bastard! At first, I thought "What a show off" and then I thought, "why is he so much smarter than me?" Then I realized that a mere moment before, I had heard the sandwich guy ask him "same thing as yesterday?" Obviously he had been in there the day before, read the riddle, and Googled the answer! Sure enough, when I got home, I googled it and found the answer. You know what that means, don't you?

That bastard is STILL smarter than me.

So there you have it...the first real riddle on this site courtesy of a sandwich shop and the answer courtesy of same random guy who cheated with Google.

One Step Forward...Thirty Years Back

Remember the double secret blind date guy who had quite the double blind date? Well, he started dating someone new, someone older, someone closer to his age. This is a big thing for him as he typically dates children. However, despite dating someone older and presumably more mature, he still has stories:

DSBDG: So, you know I have been dating that OLD woman.

Me: She is younger than you, right?

DSBDG: Yeah, but she is still an OLD woman. She is in her 50s or something.

Me: But you are still older than her, right?

DSBDG: Whatever. Anyway, we were out the other night and she told me that she wanted me to meet her friend because she thought I would like her.

Me: Wait. Are you still dating this woman?

DSBDG: Yes.

Me: Okay, so she just wants to introduce you to her friends?

DSBDG: Well, kinda, but not really. She said she thought I would like her friend because she was my type and sexy.

Me: Wait. What? Huh?

DSBDG: Yeah, she thought we would hit it off.

Me: Like a threesome?

DSBDG: Unfortunately, no. I think just more of a side thing.

Me: She wants to SHARE you??

DSBDG: I guess.

Me: Um, okay. Since when did you get all Big Love and...ew GROSS.

DSBDG: No Big Love. We aren't getting married.

Me: Whatever makes you happy DSBDG.

DSBDG: Oh, I am happy.

DSBDG: Funny thing though. Last time I dated women whose collective age was 100, I was dating 6 at the same time.

Me: Um, you might want to check your math.

DSBDG: [silence]

Me: 100 divided by 6...

DSBDG: Oh. Yeah. Right.

Lock your children up. At least the female ones.

You Can Please Some of the People...Never!

Nothing like going out with the family to hear some harsh criticism of your blog:

Bro - doesn't like posts with a lot of words, didn't understand the post about the Googlers (thought the google searches were riddles I made up because yes, if I attempted a riddle it would totally be "riddle about two boxes three boxes two boxes"), doesn't like posts about cats (mind you I haven't posted about the cats since October except an occasional reference or Chester sticking his head in B's picture).*

Dad - doesn't like renovation pictures and I quote "BEFORE and AFTER - BORING"**

B - thinks it should be all pictures and few words and captions with the pictures, then added it should be all about him***

So according to these "fans" who think they make up 1/3 of my readership (they do not), from now on my posts will have to consist of:

Lots of pictures but no words

No pictures of cats

No pictures of renovations

All about B

But no pictures of B

Sorry, fingers, if this crew had it their way, I could only post more pictures of my pantry apparently. Good thing I don't listen to them.

And to end, I leave you with this scenario that played out at Easter dinner in public shortly after the above criticisms. Right in the middle of a story, my father says:

"And the sign said ACME Dildo Shop - big or small you can have them all, custom fitted"

...just as the waitress was pouring our coffee.

And Jesus wept.

*Bro admits to having not read my blog in quite some time. That is obvious.

**Dad NEVER reads my blog but just happened to read it on Easter because my Mom left it up on the computer purposely.

***B only reads blogs about Jon and Kate Plus Eight. That, alone, disqualifies him from all opinions.

Just out of spite, here is a picture of the cats in one of their rare loving brotherly moments. At least they are not making out which they also tend to do.

Think of the Children...

As you are all aware, times are tough right now. We may or may not be in a recession, depending on whom you talk to and at what time of the day.  However, the fact remains, people are tighter with their money these days. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.  I would imagine this would make it harder for charities to get donations.  Even if people want to help those in need, they may not be able to at the moment.  So, how are charities dealing with these hard economic times? Well, if the guy in the local Walgreens is any example, apparently by yelling and guilting customers into donating.  

The only reason I found myself in Walgreens at that moment is because out cats needed some water. Yes, due to Mooch's recent illness, the cats now drink fancy distilled water. And they were out. After being in the office all day, I was tired and hungry and really did not want to be buying water.  I only had $1.00 on me. Enough for one gallon of water.  Pathetic, I know, but I don't like to carry a lot of cash on me.  

Upon entering the store I see a guy wearing a suit in front of a table that contains a bunch of pamphlets. Luckily he is talking to someone so I do not have to dodge him.  I make my way to the water and get in line to pay where there is one person ahead of me. While I am waiting, the guy in the suit attempts to get people entering and leaving to make a donation. No dice.  So, he decides to change tactics:

Guy:  What? You cannot give money for the CHILDREN??? Who doesn't love CHILDREN?

Cashier: I love children.

Guy: Of course you do. Who doesn't love CHILDREN?

Cashier: Of course that's because I have four of them.

At this point the cashier and the person in front of me proceed to have a conversation about her four children. The guy in the suit, oblivious to the fact that he is no longer conversing with the cashier, keeps up his tirade:

Guy: And what would YOU do if one of your children were missing?

[no answer]

Guy: Go to the police I am sure.

Now, people are dodging this guy or, as in my case, trying to pretend that he was not in the middle of the store shouting about children and not making a lick of sense.  I thought about telling him he needed to tone it down, no one likes to be scolded into donating.  I thought about asking him what kind of charity he was working with so I could be sure to contact them about the lunatic collecting donations.  I thought about asking for the manager. I even thought about asking suit guy what missing children, the police and his charity had to do with one another. 

Instead, I went home.  I gave my cats 99 cent distilled water.  I did not give that guy one dime. 

Hopefully the fate of all children does not rest on this guy's shoulders.  They will surely be doomed.

What's Old Becomes New Again

Or my fancy way of saying:

I Love Recycling!!

I really do. I love the sorting, the organizing and even the carrying to the curb.  It's Thursday and it is recycling day!  It wasn't always like this.  It all started when B found an extra recycling bin in the back of our building. We claimed it as our own.  Then, I went online and downloaded the guidelines. Yes, I downloaded them. Yes, I refer to them often.  However, I know most of them by heart:

B: Can we recycle the paint cans?

Me: Yes, has to go to the center though, not in the bin.

~~

B: We can't recycle these batteries can we?

Me: Yes, they just need to go into a plastic baggie and placed at the bottom of the bin.

~~

B: Are you planning on taking these hangers to the cleaner?

Me: Nope. They are going in the bin.

I am full of information and excitement for this new gig. B wants no part of it and calls it my "job" and says I am "in charge of it" which I thought meant I had to carry the bin to the curb (I do), not that I would have to follow B around the house to rescue the recyclables (I do that too). B will only remember to recycle about half the time.  This results in my peppering him with questions and statements like these:

"Why are you throwing out that envelope - it can be recycled!"

"That's a plastic bottle in your trash!"

"Where are you going with that cardboard box?"

"The newspaper does not belong in the bathroom trashcan"

B responds with one of these two answers:

"I don't know" which means "recycling is your job, I want no part of it" OR

"Oh" which means "Oh"

B also wants no part of it because he believes that recycling is just a big conspiracy coverup and that they merely collect all your stuff and put it in a big trash pile. Nothing I say can convince him otherwise. Even pointing out that by now someone would have figured this out and uncovered it. Like one of those crazy investigative news teams that follow everyone around.  Nope, B is convinced it is a scam.  He also loves conspiracy theories. Enough said.

This weekend, however, was extra exciting as I had to go to the actual recycling center so that I could give them the huge cardboard box from Black Friday's TV.  B thought that was a great idea and handed me two cans of paint to take with me.  Never having been to the center, I did not know what to expect. 

I love the recycling center!!  Seriously. There are big huge bins everywhere for everything you can think of, all nicely sorted.  Between recycling, diner dash games and my love for the mail, I probably should have been a mail sorter.  But in any event, the center was full of organization, sorting and rules, and, apparently I broke one of them.

Upon driving up to the chemicals section which consisted of a crazy looking shed and a man with a cart, I got out of my car to give him my two small paint cans.  We have the following exchange:

Man: Do you have an appointment?

Me: No. Do I need an appointment [reviewing guidelines in my head and noting they did not mention an appointment to drop off paint]

Man: Yes.

Me: So should I make an appointment?

Man: We have to have appointments because we service 13 different cities [note, I was the only one in front of him at the time]

Me: So should I make an appointment?

Man: Just show me your ID

I did. He took the paint. On a cart. Despite the fact that I was able to carry them with one hand. Now you know since he took the paint, I probably won't make an appointment next time either. As I got out at the next stop - big cardboard box bin, I saw a guy go over to the paint guy with three cans of paint.  And of course he was asked if he had an appointment. The guy thought he might.  No he did not. Yes the guy took the paint.  But he is not going to stop recycling that line about the appointments.  Oh no.

Meanwhile, back at home I tell B about my newfound love for the center and how I am going back this weekend with something.  At that exact moment I look out to see the recycling truck picking up the bins.  This usually happens on Friday when I am at work but with the holiday, it was happening on Saturday.  I took that moment to point out to B that the truck had separated bins in which they were separating the stuff they picked up.  B declared it was all for show, that it was just going into one big garbage pile and they really FOOLED ME.

Yes, I have been fooled.  We all have been fooled.

Text Me Not

Remember that time I got an email from someone that thought she knew me? Well apparently I get text messages from people like that too.* Oh! And I am psychic.  Case in point...

Early in the morning I got a text from a friend. One of those pass it along texts. Kind of like a chain email, but cuter.  But that got me thinking later about people spam texting. Does that ever occur, I thought?  A short while later I was alerted to a text message as follows:

[insert 5 billion "Fwd:"s here] / // // /___/ /__________

that would be my heartbeat if i ever lost

you.  Send 2 everyone you care about 

including me!

Okay, my first thought was basically "okay..."  My second thought was "who the HELL sent THIS to me?"  And what were those lines about?  So I look at the phone number. Yep, I have absolutely NO clue who this is. Clearly, I do not know this person and clearly they do not know me.  If they had, I probably wouldn't have gotten such a message.  Now, rather than simply ignoring the text like a rational human being might, I decided to inform the person that we did not, in fact, know each other.  That was not as easy as you would think:

Me:  Who is this?

Text: KK [real name redacted]

Me: I don't know you?

Text: From [name redacted] technical school

HUH?  Okay, I REALLY do not know this person. Time to end this nonsense:

Me: Nope. You have the wrong number.

Text: You taught a cooking class there in 2005.

Seriously. The texter seriously said that! Me! A cooking class! Not only does she not know me, but she has clearly never read this blog.  Otherwise she would know about this, and this, and this.  Cooking teacher....ha.

Me: No. I did not. You have the wrong number.

Text: I guess if you do not remember me even though that's the number that was given to me.

Okay. I did not say I did not remember her. I said I AM NOT THAT PERSON. I never went to that school. I did not teach the class. You have the wrong number.  So what do I do? Of course...I call her:

Text:  Hello?

Me: It's Dani.

Text: Hi - you taught me a cooking class in 2005.

Me: No I did not. I have NEVER taught anything, let alone cooking. I am sorry, we do not know each other. And, actually, you would not want me to teach you cooking. Believe you me. You are better off.

Text:...okay...[clearly not believing she doesn't know me]

Meanwhile, I am IMing my Mom to inform her that I am busy arguing with a stranger about whether I know her or not.  Oh and she thinks I taught a cooking class.  I don't think my Mom ever laughed so hard in her life.  

The girl went on to say that SOMEONE gave her this number so I must be the teacher. I am not. I know it. She does not know it or refuses to know it.  I just hope she loses my number.  On another note...why would you wait almost four years to text an old teacher only to send them THAT message?  Really? You heart would stop beating if you ever lost me? How's it been for the past four years without me?

Still beating I bet.

*While looking up old posts to link, I forgot that this is not my first stranger text.  There was the one where the lady wanted me to babysit.   Not sure if mistaking me for a cooking teacher is funnier than a babysitter, but they both get chuckles from me.