The Joy of Pregnancy Hormones

So a few weeks ago, Mark got a new cell phone and he gave me his old one to use. His old phone still has all of his contacts' phone numbers listed in it. I really haven't had the energy or desire to delete them, so they remain in there. I should also preface this post by saying that at one point he also used this phone as a work phone so many of his "clients" as well as co-workers have this number. I found that out a few days ago when I answered the phone to hear the raspy voice of one of his "clients".

And, I'm sure many of you reading this will remember that Mark was away for about 6 weeks back in the Spring for his job, at which point he made friends with many people all around the country. He stays in touch with many of them (both male and female) because they all share the same profession. No big deal here.

Well, yesterday morning, hell hath no fury like a pregnant woman on bedrest with a 51 inch waist (that's right...51 inches; we just measured). So, "my" cell phone rings at 11AM on Saturday morning. The caller ID shows that it is "Lindsey" one of the fine gals Mark spent 6 weeks with in the Spring. I, of course, jump at the chance to answer this call, not really knowing or anticipating anything....just wanted to answer it.

Lindsey: "Mark?"
Bedrester: "No, it's Jennifer" (uuumm, I know that I'm huge now and all, but I didn't think my voice deepened that much that I could be mistaken for Mark).
Lindsey (in a loud, suspected drunken voice): "Are you ready for some Tequila shots?"
Bedrester: "Excuse me?"
Lindsey: "Who is this?"
Bedrester: "This is Jennifer. Who are you trying to reach?"
Lindsey: "Jennifer, what are you doing answering Mark's cell phone?"
OH. NO. SHE. DIDN'T.
Bedrester: "Um, Lindsey, this is my phone. What do you want?"
Lindsey: Click.
OH. NO. SHE. DIDN'T.

Mark: "What was that all about?"
Bedrester: "Why don't you tell me? It was Lindsey calling to see if you wanted some tequila shots. What's that about?"
Mark: "Are you sure that's what she said? I'm sure she's just calling to tell me she's pregnant. She was inseminated about a month ago."
Bedrester (loud, annoyed voice): "I highly doubt she was calling to tell you she was pregnant; she was drunk; where does this slut live anyway and why would she be calling?"
Mark: "She lives in Iowa and that's like a four hour time difference so maybe she's just coming in from the night and yeah, she drinks a lot."
Bedrester: "Well, I hope she isn't calling to tell you she's pregnant because she was drunk. Now, I want you to sit here on this bed and call this whore back and I want you to tell her that she does not call my cell phone and hang up on me. This is my house and I am your wife and I can answer any phone that I want. If you don't call her back right now I will."
Mark: "I don't know why you're acting like this. But I'll call her."

So, he calls back and leaves a message --- something about "you just called my wife; she thought it was a client (ah, no I didn't) and just checking to make sure everything was okay."

She calls back in a few minutes and I can hear her drunken voice on the other end.

Drunk Lindsey: "Please tell your wife I'm so sorry. We're tailgating at the Iowa/Northwestern game and I was calling my friend Mark who's supposed to meet us here. Please tell your wife I'm sorry." And then a few more times I heard her say "I'm sorry."

Of course, after he hung up the phone, we had a good laugh because it was a really good display of pregnancy hormones in action (I'm never a jealous person) and we're still joking about it today.

And, by the way, in case anyone cares, Iowa is not 4 hours behind us. They're a mere 1.