The hotline experience

Thinking back to my teenage years, I often wonder if anyone's raging hormones were quite as strong as mine. Keeping them under check in order to appear to be a normal functioning human being was damn near impossible.

When a girl bent over in front of me in the school yard, I seldom missed the opportunity to see the top of the mountain. It took everything in me to not scream BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOBS with jaw dropped, tongue out, and drool dropping onto the floor in heavy rivulets. 

I recall channel flipping through the analog channels that partially came in, one of them being the adult movies channel.  If you watched it long enough you sometimes chanced upon 2-3 seconds of sub par reception, enough to store in the spank bank for later.  

I regularly stayed up late watching television, because that's when the good stuff would come on the infomercial channel.
I'm talking about the call girl ads.
These girls left barely anything to the imagination and they wanted me to call them. 

Unfortunately the price on the screen always read something ridiculous like $3.99 a minute, and I didn't have a credit card, nor did I want to suffer the wrath of my father if I were to use his credit card for such a transaction.

One of the times I was watching the call girl infomercials, the ad suggested that the first 5 minutes are free, through a toll free 1-800 number, TREMENDOUS!  I was so excited, this was my in!
Right now, I want you to imagine how excited I was as a 16 year old to be able to talk to a hot babe for free for FIVE MINUTES!!!
The most I ever talked to a hot girl in high school was five seconds, when one turned around to ask me if they can copy my math homework.

I immediately called the number, the machine advised they needed a credit card in the event your call exceeded five minutes.

Sounds harmless enough I thought, while sneaking upstairs to grab my father's credit card.
After calling the number back, I entered the digits and I was on the line talking to a hot babe.

I must have sounded 10, but I told the woman I was 19 and she believed me.

After three minutes I hung up in a panic, ensuring the credit card doesn't get charged.

Two weeks later a bill came in the mail.

It wasn't for zero dollars.
It wasn't for five dollars.
It wasn't for twenty dollars.

I can probably keep going, but I'll just save the suspense and tell you right now that it was for $300 dollars!!!

There was quite obviously something in the fine print my hormone induced excitement didn't think to to take notice of.

My dad knew exactly what this was.

He asked me if I had called a 1-900 number.  I told him I called a 1-800 number (which I did), but I guess through pressing some of the options in the phone menu, I had been forwarded to a 1-900 number and it sure wasn't free for the first five minutes!

This is one of the very  few times my dad didn't break a wooden spoon on my back over something I probably deserved to for once.

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I got my first comment from a reader last week, I know it's super exciting for absolutely nobody, but me.  I was asked what wine I was drinking while writing my last blog entry, what a great question!

Being that I write these while sipping on wine, why not share the label with  you?
So going forward I'll either start or end every post with that tidbit of information.

Today's not sponsored post is presented to you by a red wine, "The Industrialist"
She's a red blend with dark fruits, vanilla and a dash of spice.
It's medium bodied and pairs well with hamburgers and pizza!