These don't meet the threshold for our prestigious Douchebag of the Month nomination process (barely), but a couple of experiences over the weekend deserve an honorable mention.
Friday night I think it was. My cell phone rings. I look at it in disbelief; it's not supposed to ring. I use it to call outward in case of an emergency and once in awhile to send an amusing text message to R (half of which he never gets). I pick it up and try to figure out how to answer it, because I've never done that before.
I see I have two options -- Ignore or Answer. I almost Ignore, but I think that might send it to the voicemail, which costs twice as many minutes to access as a regular call costs. So I answer it.
Silence. I try again.
Another moment of silence. Then a dial tone. No apology for being too damn stupid to dial the right number. Nothing at all; just a hangup. How rude.
The number that called me is (417) 264-7440, which, if Google is accurate, belongs to a Joseph McKinzie, who lives at 315 Chestnut Street in Thayer MO. That information may come in handy.
Then Saturday, I have done a weeks work of laundry and discovered the dryer is on the fritz, so I hang it all up on the clothesline I have set up on the front porch so it can't be rained on.
I go about my business for awhile.
A couple of hours later, I look out my front window and see a white minivan stopped in front of the house. I look closer and see the passenger, a (I'm trying hard not to use the C-word here) woman, has a digital camera and it taking pictures of my laundry!
They speed off before I can get my shoes on and go confront them.