Tuesday, November 15, 2011

It Ain't My Fault (Did I Do That?)

Man, you know those times when you get a voicemail from some old man congratulating you on "pulling off a smooth con job" by knowingly selling him a pickup truck with a faulty transmission (for a price equal to the sum of his life savings, meaning he can't afford to get it fixed) and you feel really, really bad about it even though you've never sold anyone a pickup truck in your life and and you're not sure how he ended up with your number in the first place, and then he ends the voicemail by telling you he "hopes God blesses you mightily" for the way you've treated him and you're confused as to what he means but suspect that's just his sarcassive-aggressive way of telling you to go to hell?

Those times are the worst.

I'd call him back to clear things up but I'm afraid he'd just call me a liar some more.


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