Heather Toshiko

Why are women so insecure and crazy? I’d like to think that men are partially to blame for some of our mental inconsistencies, but by and large, I think that some bitches are just nuts

Today I got a few “blocked caller ID” calls on my personal cell. No big deal. It was the kind of call where I said “hello? hello?” and I could hear background noise so I assumed that maybe someone’s phone had mis-dialed me. Again, no big deal.

Fast forward several hours…it’s now 2am in New Mexico. I’m in bed reading when my phone goes off again. Blocked caller ID. I answer the phone, and it’s a female. She immediately asks who I am. Dude! Have you met me? I’m not inclined to give out personal information on the phone, and I’m a generally suspicious and cynical person. Comes with the territory. Anyway, she says she got a missed call from me on her phone, and continues to ask who I am. I tell her that it’s 2am, and that clearly I haven’t called her and that she’s mistaken. She continues to insist that I called her and repeatedly asks who I am. Finally, it dawns on me what’s going on. So, idiot that I am, I say “Hey, let’s try this. You raided your boyfriend’s phone and found my number, and now you want to know who I am.” She paused for a second then let out a very unconvincing “no.” I quickly say “well, I’m sorry you think I called, have a good night. Goodbye.” As I hung up, I could hear her saying “wait…”

It is now 2:26am and she has called my phone nine times. Of course, I’m not answering. No need to encourage her. On the eighth call, she left me a message:

“I don’t know if you’re dating “Carl” (Kyle? Cal? Paul?) but I did, and he raped me and beat me and put me in the hospital so I’d be careful.”

Ok, first let me say that although I can’t quite tell what name she’s saying, I am not nor have I ever dated anyone by that name. Further, I don’t even KNOW anyone by that name. Perhaps she got scared since I called her out on her motive, and now she’s trying to mislead me with the name so that the guy whose phone she raided won’t find out. Mental note guys: if you have my personal cell number in your phone, this bitch could be YOUR problem.

Second, let me say that the 11th grade scare tactic she is attempting to employ leads me to believe that I’m dealing with someone so inept and/or immature that when she raided her boyfriend’s phone, she copied the number down wrong and called me by mistake.

Third, let me say that bitches are crazy. What kind of needy and obsessive desire to identify a phone number on some guys cell leads a woman to call a stranger TWELVE TIMES in one day to try and identify her? Although it will never happen, I’d love for her to know who she’s dealing with. Perhaps she’d rethink her erratic behavior before stalking another woman. Who knows, maybe one of my male friends will read this, figure out who she is, and tell her a little bit about me. That would make me smile.

Kill me, please? I have never wanted to leave a place so badly in my life. I’ve been here in New Mexico (way better than the original) for 2 months and I am either suicidal or homicidal…I’m not quite sure.

First, the people here drive the speed limit. Assholes! There are many two lane highways, and these idiots with nowhere to go just take their sweet ass time doing 54 in a 55. I haven’t seen one speeder since I’ve been here. Oh, and apparently there’s no age limit for driver’s licenses either. I’m constantly stuck behind some fatass old croaker in a big Buick who is straddling the line and driving below the limit. I won’t say how many times I’ve been pulled over, but suffice it to say that to continue counting I will need another hand. I will say that the cops here (state, local, county) are EVERYWHERE and they are very nice if not a bit zealous. Seriously, if we had as many cops in LA, our crime rate would plummet. They are everywhere.

Today I went to the Post Office to mail Ian his Wii. There were about 10 folks waiting and so I took a number. Moments later two fatass, bald, mandal wearing douchbags walked in. They were talking very loudly and having a pious conversation about Christianity and televangelists. They actually stood in the middle of the post office and speculated on what God thinks of various people. I assume that they are such pious and inspired individuals that God gives them the low down on what he’s working on during a given week. I had placed my box on a high counter, and at some point I started banging my head on it. This brought chuckles from the other customers and a stern look of disapproval from the two Wise Men. I muttered “kill me” and then my number was called. Thank you, Jesus.

Later in the day, after my happy hour Sonic iced tea, I went into a public restroom. As I was heading for the door, a woman pushed past me and rushed inside. By the time I entered, she was in a stall. The restroom was empty except for me and her. Oh, and whoever she was talking to in the stall. Here’s what I heard:

“Ahhhhhh. Ooooooh. I shouldn’t have held it so long. Ohhhhh. God I have to go. Ahhhhh. Oh it’s so cold in here. Ohhhhh. Ahhhhh.” Flush.

By the time she was done, I was at the sink washing my hands. She exited the stall, looked at me, said “its cold in here” then left. She left WITHOUT WASHING HER HANDS!!!!!! Also, I should note that she wasn’t on the phone, she was moaning and groaning and talking to herself in the stall. Fucking wacko bitch.

I hate this place. I can honestly say that I will never, ever come to New Mexico again in my life. You can’t make me!