So I got an Obscene Phone Call this morning....

Like you’d have a dearth of takers if you asked here?

Sounds like fun!

We used to get a lot of harassing phone calls in Egypt (usually kids who accidently stumbled on our phone number and were strangely thrilled by the prospect of calling a foreigner over and over and giggling). I used to give people the benefit of the doubt for 3-4 calls, then I would pick up the whistle tied to the phone cord for just such occasions and blow as hard as I could into the receiver.

I’m probably responsible for a few deaf people in Cairo.

Maybe it was Bill Blass out for a jog?

Back at the dawn of time, I received obscene phone calls, but no telemarketing calls.

Now I receive telemarketing calls, but no obscene phone calls.

Civilization is moving backwards.

Or perhaps she works in Amsterdam.

You know, just once I’d like to have an obscene phone call. Hell, I’d probably play along for a bit. Especially if she sounded hot.

For the past 4 years or so, I’ve gotten “obsence” calls and messages from someone my friends and I have dubbed my eStalker. I have no idea where this guy came from, but he calls about once every 3 or 4 months, usually around 2am.

He has a fetish for shoes. Not feet, mind you, but shoes themselves. Oftentimes, he’ll ask what kind of shoes I’m wearing – hello!? It’s 2am. What the hell kind of shoes do you think I’m wearing at 2am? Call back at 5 or 6 pm.

Once, he sent a (rather gross) picture he took while “touching himself.” In the foreground, him holding a firm grip on his wookie. In the background? About 30 pairs of sneakers strewn about the floor.

I feel special.

I had a repeat heavy breather caller when I had three children under five. After hanging up on him several times, the next time he called I laid the phone down next to the youngest, who was screaming bloody murder at having his diaper changed. Didn’t call back after that. :wink:

I feel like Steve Martin in The Jerk–I’m somebody now! I got an obscene phone call!
:wink:
Sadly, there are times when an OPC might make my afternoon.

The closest I’ve come to an OPC is a guy that has called a couple times asking if I have nice feet. My typical response is to quickly hang up the phone.

I actually got an obscene phone call once, from a person who identified himself as gay. Or maybe he was just some giddy joker, whatever. I didn’t have anything better to do so I went along with him for a while. He finally got miffed and huffy and hung up. I wish he’d call again.