I Hate Bianca

For the past two weeks or so, I've been getting wrong number calls for Bianca. They started at midnight one night - followed by several 2:30, 3:00 and 4:00 am calls over the next two days - and they haven't slacked off much. Except for one, they've all been men. They call all the time and they're usually drunk and they say stuff like "Are you sure you aren't Bianca?" I don't want to turn my phone off at night since M. is with his school on a field trip to Mexico - but this is driving me crazy. It's driving me crazy during the day, let alone at night.

Being a nice person, I had decided that Bianca was probably a bartender, and that was why she got so many calls at 2:00 am. It had occurred to me after one or two calls that she might be a coke dealer (the name and all.) Well, I just had an actual conversation with a Bianca caller and apparently she's a hooker. Great. Just tee fucking riffic. My phone number is being given out by a hooker. The guy I just talked to said, "You gave me your phone number the other night." "No I didn't." I said. "Don't you remember?" he said. "At the Shell station in Oteen." "I have never even been to a Shell station in Oteen" I told him, "And I don't know Bianca, and this is my phone number, please don't call it again, I'm getting a LOT of calls for her." He kind of laughed and hung up.

I hate her. This is unbelievably awful. No wonder the guys who call are so reluctant to believe that I'm not Bianca, and no wonder they keep calling back, all night long.
I did have a momentary fear that maybe I had developed a split personality and one of my alter egos was going around handing out my phone number - but please, oh lord, if I'm going to turn into Sybil tell me I'd be hanging out somewhere more interesting than a gas station in east Asheville. Oh please. What am I going to do?