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So a telemarketer called earlier and the caller id said Manassas, VA. She asked for someone who wasn't here, and said if I had any questions to call customer support (Wtf, you called me.) So I ask, "How is it in Man-Ass, Virginia?" And she starts busting up laughing and says "It's quite beautiful." I say thank you and hang up.
 
So a telemarketer called earlier and the caller id said Manassas, VA. She asked for someone who wasn't here, and said if I had any questions to call customer support (Wtf, you called me.) So I ask, "How is it in Man-Ass, Virginia?" And she starts busting up laughing and says "It's quite beautiful." I say thank you and hang up.

:lol:

you know what kind of telemarketer calls I fucking loathe? Those ones where you answer the phone and there is a recording saying "We have a very important message for you, please call us at..." blah blah

fuck you
 
One thing I hated about doing background checks was having wrong phone numbers provided to us for previous employers, references, etc. I once called a number to obtain employment verification on someone, but it was the number of a poor old lady in a nursing home. After that I was always leery about calling provided numbers and got in the habit of running a search on the number before I called it...which was a good thing, because one time a number provided to us was off just by one digit, just one! But if I had called it as provided I would have reached a gay sex hotline :loco:
 
I had a pretty awkward moment today. Not sure if I mentioned the time a while back when I answered the door and a negro was outside selling something, and I just so happened to be listening to track 4 on that Slave Whipping Blasphemy disc, and didn't realize the ending was coming up soon "Make them burn, make them bleed, make them plow, forever."

Anyway, I have the worst luck when I am in the kitchen blasting music with any racial overtones... Usually play power metal, sometimes some thrash. Typically stay away from anything else while cooking for some odd reason. Had my dog upstairs with me (large St. Bernard) First track in to the album I was playing, doorbell rings... Dog barks, runs to the door, and I follow. my pals selling fucking vacuums. I am about to tell him I'm not interested while my dog barks and growls at him furiously... till the music blasting from the kitchen suddenly starts doing it for me... "RAPE OF A SLAAAAAVE... RAPE OF A SLAAAAAVE... RAPE OF A SLAAAAAAAVE". Yeah, Arghoslent's Arsenal.

I just closed the door, there was no need to face him anymore.

I'm guessing next time I blast Nokturnal Mortum or something similar, a jew will be selling Yarmulkes at my door as the most offensive line starts of whatever song I am listening to starts. Should just stick to Power Metal. :lol: