Oh, Baby, What a Wrong Number
John Grogan, one of the two reasons I still subscribe to the Philadelphia Inquirer (the other being the funny papers), had a great column that I almost missed. You know, you come back from Thanksgiving with the in-laws, and the last thing you want to tackle is the pound-and-a-half of yellowing newspapers thrown haphazardly on your front porch.
But, as the boys all "rested", I sorted. And this evening, I read this story of a lesson in toll-free numbers. Not all toll-free's start with 1-800. Unfortunately for a bevvy of old ladies, the number for a toll-free hot-sex line is the same as the number for a fabric store which advertises during prime biddy-television. Only, the fabric store is supposed to be 1-877.
They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks. But I'll reckon that this old lady learned, after being exposed to some new graphic language and mental pictures she really didn't want, that toll-free doesn't mean 1-800!
(*)>
But, as the boys all "rested", I sorted. And this evening, I read this story of a lesson in toll-free numbers. Not all toll-free's start with 1-800. Unfortunately for a bevvy of old ladies, the number for a toll-free hot-sex line is the same as the number for a fabric store which advertises during prime biddy-television. Only, the fabric store is supposed to be 1-877.
They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks. But I'll reckon that this old lady learned, after being exposed to some new graphic language and mental pictures she really didn't want, that toll-free doesn't mean 1-800!
(*)>
posted by birdwoman | 7:38 PM
1 Comments:
now, *that's* funny.
Still don't get the Fair Dinkum thing, though. Must be an Ozzie thing.
Thanks for stopping by!
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