So I had a little run in the other day that involved my cellular telephone. I am sure you are familiar with cellular telephones. You might call them cell phones. If you are Nelly you might call it a celly. Not only because you think you are cool but because it rhymes with your name. Whatever. But I had an incident with it. As part of the recent relocation of my Worldwide Headquarters I went out and got a new telephone number. It was at this number that I received a text message from another local number.
Well this both excited and perplexed me. I have lived in this new town of mine for a mere two days, and as far as I know no one here knows my number. Not even the pizza place across the way knows it. Not even my work knows it. Not even my landlord does. So I was wondering who could be calling me.
I am not going to lie, I was hoping it was a chick. Yeah, that’s right. I was hoping that some way, somehow, some girl got a hold of my phone number and dialed it up. I don’t know, maybe she worked for the cell phone company and used some sort of space age technology to find out my number and get a hold of me. That would have been nice. Maybe she stole my cell phone while I was upstairs in a different office at work and went into the phone info and got it and then turned my phone off and put it back in my backpack. That would have been odd since there are no young girls in my office, but maybe one of the women that I work with did that for their attractive daughter. I don’t know. But that’s what I was hoping for. Instead, what I got was Mike Evanson.
I don’t know who Mike Evanson thinks he is, but he was all up in my business. He texted me to ask what I was doing and since I thought he was a hot chick I answered. He called me Dustin somewhere in the first two texts but it was hard to understand and I didn’t pick up on it. So I kept going. I asked him who he was. He told me he was Mike Evanson. Well, welcome to the jungle Mike Evanson. I asked him if he knew who I was. He said I was Dustin. Now I know that not all of you know me personally, Company, but I think that you have all figured out that I am not Dustin. Otherwise you would be reading Big Dustin and Company. And that you most certainly are not. So I respond that I am not Dustin. And Mike Evanson decides to respond with “But u said u were dustin befour then who r u”
Okay, there are so many things wrong with this message that I don’t even know where to begin. You all know how I feel about text message language. So I am not even going to get into that today. But then he didn’t even put in b4. He wrote out befour. That is the most retarded thing that I have ever seen. There, I said it. Plus, who is this numbnuts to question who I am. Did he think that I was messing with him? Did he think that I was stringing him along? Seriously? What did he think was going on? Did he really thing that I was Dustin? And what kind of person is Dustin that Mike Evanson would think he would do this kind of thing? Somebody explain this to me. Please. Mike Evanson please explain this to me. What were you thinking? Why didn’t you ask me to be your friend. I told you that I was new in town when you doubted that I wasn’t Dustin. Yet you took no steps to welcome me to the community. Well Mike Evanson, that is just awful. If I ever find out who you are there is a good possibility that I will throw something at the general direction of your face. I am sorry, that is how it has to be. Unless you call me up and we can sort this out. You obviously have my number.