You know what's fun? Toying with the strangers who call the house.
Years ago, I answered the phone, and this guy had called the wrong number. He was kinda drunk, so it was easy to mess with his head. "You sound funny. Do you have a cold?" he asked me, thinking I was his friend. "No," I replied. "What are you doing tonight?" he asked. "Oh, not much. Watching some TV." We must've chatted for a good five minutes before his Hackles of Suspicion were finally raised and I could stifle my laughter no longer. Yeah, he felt pretty dumb after that. Just doing my part to reduce the scourge of alcohol abuse in this fine land.
Because of Mr. Tangerine's name, we've gotten junk mail, telemarketing calls, and market-research solicitations—in Spanish. Mind you, we don't know much more Spanish than Ben does, and he's in kindergarten. Ocho! Naranja! De nada! Los brazos y la cabeza! (That last one I know from the signs inside the CTA buses.) It's disappointing sometimes. You're bored, you get a call from a survey person, and you think to yourself, "Sure, I've got 10 minutes to kill, and I'm not shy about speaking my mind. I'd love to share my opinions on pickup trucks." But then it turns out that the market research is targeted only at Hispanics, and that's not our demographic.
A few minutes ago, the phone rang, jangling me out of my reveries. Mr. Tangerine and I each had a phone handset within reach, and we each looked at the caller-ID screen. INTERSEARCH CORP? I put my phone down, but Mr. Tangerine was feeling more mischievous. "Buenas noches," he answered. "Hello. Do you speak Spanish?" asked the woman. (WTF? Were you not listening when the man answered the phone, lady?) "No," he replied. "Okay, thank you." Click. She didn't even have the decency to sound amused. But that's okay. We were plenty amused on her behalf.
Anyone else like to play games with strangers who call?