Wednesday, December 18, 2013

The time we called that celebrity

It's time.

It's time to tell this story.

I will change names to protect the innocent. One day this friend and I, we'll call her Jyll, were doing our normal routine of stalking celebrities. We used to go to this website that I will not divulge, and if you put celebrities names in it would show you where they lived, and then you could google search the address and actually look at their house. It used radar or something. We would search it in hopes of catching them outside, hanging laundry or doing something equally as interesting (I mean hell, stars are just like us, they do laundry too, right?)

Anyway. On that particular day, we realized that some of the addresses included phone numbers. We tried calling a few of them, but we couldn't get past their personal assistants, or the numbers were disconnected all together. We saw that a certain celebrity's (we'll call him Ray) number was listed, and decided we should probably try to call him. We even had a good reason - it was College World Series time in Omaha, and he was often spotted at Roosenblatt Stadium during that time. However, our stalking got interupted, so we saved his number in my phone so we could try it later when we went out drinking.

After work we went to a bar with a bunch of people from work, and drinks were consumed. That's when Jyll and I remembered we had a certain number in my phone, and we dialed that bitch up.

"Um, hello, is Ray there?" I stuttered.
"Who's calling?" The person spoke with a Spanish/Mexican (I don't know how to say that politically correctly) accent.
"Jyll." I probably should have come up with a code name, but this was all just happening too easily.
"Jyll who?"
"Jyll. From Omaha."
"Hold on." HOLD ON?! Is she seriously going to go get Ray?

Jyll was hanging on my every word. My heart was pounding. A few seconds later, his familiar voice came though the line. "Hello? Who is this?"
"It's Jyll! From Omaha!" Why, oh why, was I using Omaha as my selling point?
Silence. "I don't know a Jyll from Omaha," he said, confused and slow.
"We met at CWS a few years back. I was just seeing if you were in town?" My story was unraveling.
"No, I'm not." Annoyance. I realized this wasn't a great plan.
I quickly got him off the phone, somehow. It got awkward. I got awkward and panicky and I started sweating.

We were sitting there relishing in the fact that we actually had a celebrity on my phone when my cell started ringing.

"FUCK! It's Ray's number!" We fought over my phone for a minute, and finally I won the battle and we let it go to voicemail. I ran in the bathroom, Jyll on my heels, to listen to the voicemail.

After dialing my passcode, the voicemail started. "Hello, this is Ray's wife Martha. This voicemail says this is a Jen. Is this Jen or Jyll? Whoever it is, why are you calling my husband?"

Shit. We were in trouble. We were just staring at each other blankly when the phone rang again, displaying Ray's number.

"We have to answer it now." Jyll grabbed the phone from me. "Hello?"
It was Ray again. "Okay. Is this Jen or Jyll?"
"It's Jyll," she said. "Okay, look, we don't know you, we just found your number online and thought we would call to see if you were in Omaha for the CWS. We really are in Omaha, and we're just fans."
Ray laughed. "Would you please explain that to my wife?"
"Yes!" Jill yelled.

There was silence and arguing in the background. Ray came back on the phone. "Okay, she doesn't want to talk. Just stay safe tonight and have fun in Omaha, ladies."

Phone call ended. Number deleted. Story told one million times.

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