It started innocuously enough, with a little late night texting and now…feels like she’s part of the family. Shortly after we activated our new Virgin phone (naturally, right?), we got a text from this guy in Maryland:
MD: hey mami u lookin so rica
Us: o thx papi u make me so horny
Us: i wanna have your babies
Us: but my name’s no julissa. it’s steve.
Poor guy didn’t text us back but he still kept drunk dialing us in the middle of the night. And it wasn’t just him. We were getting a lot of these calls. They’d be all, “hey baby, waas hapnin?” and we’d be like, “Dude, for real, Julissa doesn’t live here. You got the wrong number.” The guys were pretty much never sober and I was starting to think that maybe Julissa was seriously committed to the party scene. And giving out our brand new phone number to guys who didn’t quite make the “hookup with you later” grade. Rejection Hotline, anyone?
Steve finally googled her name with our phone number and presto change-o, there was Julissa in all her glory (NSFW).
I know we’re probably bound straight for basement seating only in the afterlife, but it is quality family entertainment thinking up new ways to give these guys a hard time. And anyways, I’d lay good odds they’re schnockerd enough that they don’t even remember what happened when they wake up in the morning.
Twitter Updates
Oh great! Naturally I just had to click on your blue link of Julissa. Now I’ve gotta’ do like 2 effing hours of virus scanning. It is fascinating though that you found her. Huh…the only good thing about this (apart from the fact it’s funnier than hell) is that I, sitting quite behind you in the basement of the afterlife, will be able to throw those unpopped kernels of popcorn at your hair–for you will be several rows closer to the “Main Staging/Viewing Area”.
p.s. hey, did she leave like an area code or somethin’? Just askin’….