I sunk to a new low. I was trying to get supper (recipe on the recipe link above) when I was accosted by a telemarketer, several times. It's always when I'm in the middle of doing dishes, or when I'm stirring a sauce that they call. It's Murphy's Law or something. Anyway, the same number came up again and again. Sooooo, DS and I thought it might be funny if he talked to the guy. We've played this game before, he and I, and we have had several positive responses in that DS can usually get the telemarketer to hang up first.
This time I was ticked, and just in a daring mood, so I gave DS carte blanche. I actually said "DS, phone, do your worst." Yep, I said "worst."
So this is the end of the conversation I could hear:
DS: Hello, yes, this is Mr.B.
DS: No, I am not a child. I am offended by that.
DS: No, my mommy is not here. Again, I am offended.
DS: You have a funny accent.
DS: I like hearing you talk. It makes me laugh. Can you say "monkeys have smelly poop?"
(I know, I know, there's a line. We crossed it. But in my defence, I could not step in. I was incapacitated by laughter...)
DS: Do you disagree that they have smelly poop?
DS: No, I'm just assuming.
DS: I told you I am a grown man. I can't help it if I have a girlie voice. I am offended again.
DS: Is that your job to call people and offend them?
DS: Do you like hockey?
DS: What? You don't like hockey? Everybody likes hockey.
DS: I'm not yelling. I'm just saying...
DS: Laughing. (mom, the guy said he's going to hang up now.)
DS: Hello, hello, hello
Somewhere, some little man with a strong middle Eastern accent is either laughing, or crying into his telemarketing computer. Me, I'm laughing, so inappropriately laughing, laughing, laughing.