Cell-Ulitis

I must possess one of the most well-behaved cell numbers in phone history. The same cannot be said for TBC or sis. Several times now, sis has received texts from guys that want to hook up with her and refuse to believe she’s not the gal they are trying to reach. In September she was in OKC spending the night before taking Jellybean to the airport to catch her early morning flight. Sleep was at a premium but Mr Hot & Horney was bound and determined to score with his elusive consort and kept up the mobile pressure. As a last resort, sis insisted he call her to prove she was not his playful amante and he finally ceased and desisted after the truth trickled its way through his thick skull.

As you all know TBC’s piss-poor luck with mobile numbers continued unabated. Last month, I called Ma Bell and switched his number and was given the solemn promise they were brand spanking new digits that had never been fondled by human hands. Wrong! If you recall, that very night he received a misdialed number at the ungodly hour of 2 am. True, the party wanted (Renee to Erica) had changed, but wrong calls/texts continued on an alarmingly regular basis. Admittedly, the desperate pleas to be bailed out of jail desisted, but still. The most surprising recent text was the proud announcement from what I can only assume was a female proclaiming her upcoming motherhood. Obviously very bored, TBC played along by asking her if it was his. She said yes! (He’s fixed). After several back and forth texts, she called and was told she had the wrong number prompting the immediate missive “a man answered.” Finally TBC broke down and told her it was him all along and she had dialed a wrong number. Yet again I reached out and touched AT&T to secure a third number for him. This last customer rep, Wesley, swore on a stack of well-thumbed Bibles that this indeed was a virgin number. Third time's the charm, right?…