Click
“Garble blarble snicker garble muffle tee hee!”
[Click]
And so begins the prophecy.
Somehow, I didn’t think it would happen quite this early in my life, but I guess I always was a bit ahead of my time. It became a kind of running joke with a former roommate of mine – many years ago, I confided to her that when I was older, I hoped to become one of those ladies who lived alone in a house that was rumored to be haunted.
I would be known as Crazy Old Lady Amadeo, or simply, The Bat Lady, a moniker I would earn, in part, due to my penchant for wearing black, but mostly because of the dozens of bat houses nailed all around my home to keep away the mosquitoes and other flying insects. And although I would still have cats, to be known for that just seemed far too clichéd, because really, who doesn’t know a crazy cat lady?
I wanted to be a middle school dare – double dog, even. Who would be brave enough to walk through my backyard and ring the doorbell at midnight? To toilet paper The Bat Lady’s home would earn the respect of every 7th grader in the entire district.
“I heard she drinks blood!”
“No, that’s a lie, but she did kill her husband, I think.”
“My brother told me he saw her digging a grave in her backyard!”
It comes down to this: I wanted to become a campfire myth.
So on Monday morning, as I sat on the train listening to the cell phone messages that had accumulated while my phone was accidentally turned off all weekend, it actually didn’t shock me to hear five prank calls in a row from the same group of children. I took it as the first sign that my transformation had begun.
Saturday, 9:25pm:
“Garble blarble snicker garble muffle tee hee!”
Saturday, 9:27pm:
“Hi this is Mike from the Department of Health Insurance. I’m afraid you cannot… ha ha ha. (Shut up!) Hee hee hee. (Shhh!) You cannot apply for garble mrble muffle. Ha ha ha! BYE!”
Saturday, 9:29pm:
“Grble garble crackle… I’m just trying to help people, you know and… hee hee hee… garble muffle snirfle. So I want to find out if you know any girls who want to make out with me. Ha ha… Muffle curfle grble… Bye!”
Saturday, 9:33pm:
“Hi Jenny, I’m calling from your work. I just want to let you know that so-and-so said you like doing drugs. Like… (say marijuana) marijuana, and… (Shhh!) and you are fired, and I’m sorry to tell you that you can’t have insurance, and you’re going to be really broke… hee hee hee. (Quiet!) My name is Mike and I’m just wondering if you’re married so we can go out and stuff. [heavy breathing] I’m so just messing with you right now! I hope you don’t have caller ID! Hee hee hee! Bye!”
Sunday, 4:31pm:
“Yes, I’d like to order a pepperoni pizza, large. And I was wondering… ha ha ha… umm, I’m calling from Chuck E. Cheese… snicker snicker tee hee. And my English is not very good, how do you say, (say por favor) por favor, you are getting prank called. By some girls. Bye!”
According to my original plan, with Phase One – Become the Object of Youthful Derision – well underway, this means that I am now ready to enter into Phase Two – Crazy Hair. Over the next three years, I need to ensure that my hair is a) at least 75% grey (almost there), b) down to my mid-back (may require extensions), and c) a tangled, matted mess (cease all hair product usage).
After that, things get a bit more challenging. Phase Three is going to necessitate some intense research and commitment on my part since it involves acquiring a severe limp and one bug eye, but I may be getting ahead of myself.
For now, I just need to revel in the knowledge that Mike wants to garble snicker tee hee blarble me. That’s all any woman wants, really.
Filed under: General on August 16th, 2006
August 16th, 2006 at 2:13 am
Garble thee hee – that’s so … (say hilarious) hilarious! (click) :oD
August 16th, 2006 at 6:26 am
J- You also need to buy an old run down home in a small town full of little children. They need to grow up scared of the house. Once phase one is complete, you should start looking to relocate.
August 16th, 2006 at 7:50 am
fake cancelling your health insurance? man, kids these days know how to hit you where it hurts!
August 16th, 2006 at 8:37 am
Hmmmm…phase 3, huh? I’m thinking, if you ever get locked in your basement again, phase 3 won’t be too hard (and you wouldn’t even need hair extensions – go for authenticity). Just don’t be so proactive about getting rescued the next time.
August 16th, 2006 at 8:45 am
holy crap! I had no idea people still prank called anymore. I thought today’s youngsters were all about the myspace.
August 16th, 2006 at 9:36 am
Wow, they even faked a foreign language for you. That’s hot.
Phase three should involve some sort of Evil Eye, which, considering your gypsy heritage, you should be able to pick up with ease. And muttering also helps.Crazy Bat Ladies definitely mutter to themselves, probably directions to the body.
August 16th, 2006 at 10:46 am
Is there a Department of Health Insurance? Is that like the U.S. Customer Service Department?
August 16th, 2006 at 11:03 am
rarity: Snrfle crackle thanks!
Strode: Excellent thought! I should probably look for a house where someone actually was murdered, seeing as how I could get it for cheap.
kat: That’s exactly what I thought! These kids were a bit preoccupied with the status of my health insurance. Maybe his mother works for MetLife.
Jess: No kidding! It would also help me develop a taste for live cockroaches, which could come in handy.
Sarah: Yeah, I guess chatting online with 60 year old pervs posing as 13 year old girls eventually gets a bit dull.
Tracy Lynn: I actually have the muttering down already – I talk to myself all. the. time. Scary.
ash: Ha! I think they’re associated with the Federal Bureau of Flexible Spending.
August 16th, 2006 at 11:26 am
Forget the bug eye and just go with an eye patch. That way you can double as a pirate when (not if) necessary.
August 16th, 2006 at 11:47 am
I have this nearly uncontrollable urge to call you and indicate that if you make out with me and bring a pizza, I’ll make sure the Department corrects your “situation”.
August 16th, 2006 at 12:38 pm
It’s all the bad influence of video games. Kids today can’t even get through a crank phone call without messing up.
August 16th, 2006 at 6:45 pm
Awesome! I think it rocks that you are prophetic. Maybe you should change your outgoing message to something involving great sorrow over your recent firing and loss of health insurance, and inability to speak spanish por favor. Y’know, just in case they call back.
August 16th, 2006 at 8:57 pm
The limp is one thing, but the buy eye? I really think you should work on that one because it is soooooo sexy. Do it. Do it. Do it.
August 16th, 2006 at 10:21 pm
Dear Jenny,
One step toward crazy would be to *69 them and crank call them back!
I agree, though, it’s refreshing to know the youth of America still can be entertained by simple games.
Love,
Vivian
August 17th, 2006 at 12:50 am
You can adopt a bat at adopt-a-bat. One small step toward your dream, one giant leap for batkind.
August 17th, 2006 at 12:52 am
P.S. I expect you might especially like Headley, “a free-tail who survived being trapped in a sub-basement.”
August 17th, 2006 at 1:07 am
Dustin: No, I think that after decades of being taunted by cruel teens, The Bat Lady should meet a handsome pirate who will take her away on his ship, where she and her brood of bats can live happily ever after.
Mike: Wait… was that you on the phone? I guess I never imagined your voice would be so high and sing-songy.
Neil: Tell me about it! Why when I was a kid, all we had was Pong, and we knew what a quality prank phone call was all about!
shari: I’m sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now. I’m too busy smoking marijuana and making out with 12-year old boys named Mike. BEEP!
Mocha: Nothing hotter than one googly eye, that’s for sure.
Vivian: For a minute I contemplated calling back and telling his mother he left a heavy breathing message on my voicemail, but then I thought if I did that, he might never call me again.
Cheryl: Headley, you say? Well, although we do share the basement experience, he’s kind of creepy looking. I prefer Mini-me, the fruit bat – looks like a little fox!
August 17th, 2006 at 11:41 am
The sad thing is (and kids don’t know this): people like us LOVE getting prank calls. ‘Makes us feel important. Well, me anyways. God I’m such a loser.
August 18th, 2006 at 7:38 pm
lord knows it’s what i have been dreaming of!
August 19th, 2006 at 5:12 pm
It would seem that your plan to become a crazy lady is underway though I doubt the final outcome will satisfy you. Your smile is far too nice to belong to someone crazy.
August 20th, 2006 at 6:06 pm
Did you know they have brooms that actually fly now? I think I saw it on boingboing or something.
August 21st, 2006 at 6:07 pm
Um, Jenny? I have copyrighted the “negligent and unpredictable blogging schedule” and I’m afraid you’re infringing on it. Please post immediately to avoid further liability.
August 22nd, 2006 at 4:01 pm
You moved the TC’07 date again, didn’t you?! And now you’re afraid I’ll find out and start crying on account of the not being able to go, aren’t you?! You can’t hide forever — may as well just face the music (or the hystrionics, whichever) and get it over with.
August 22nd, 2006 at 4:57 pm
In order to get the warts you will need…
First you must rub your nose on a frog to make sure it gets in just the right spot on the tip (pretend like you’re looking for your prince..blah blah blah). Then wait a few days until that unsightly/hot bump begins to appear. Nurture it with blarble and goo to ensure its shininess. Employ a pet bat to suck on it three times a week to ensure the perfect protrusion. If need be, apply Rogaine twice a day until that curly hair sprouts out at the perfect angle.
Voila, my pretty!