Carlos.

I have got to write about what just happened. And it is not exaggerated one bit.

I'm on my way back from the gym and I notice that I have four missed calls from a restricted number. I'm like, What the frack?! Huntington Theater get off my back! (Love the theater, but those biotches have been stalking me to renew my play package...and I just rhymed). Anyway, I get back to my office and they call again, but the owner of my company is two feet away, so I ignore it. Finally they call back again and I answer. This is the conversation. Verbatim.

Me: Hello?
Mexican Lady: WHO is this?
Me: This is Sarah.
Mexican Lady: How do you know Carlos?
Me: I'm sorry? (without a British accent, though that phrase sounds better with one)
Mexican Lady: This is his WIFE and I found your number in Carlos' pocket when I was doing the laundry and I want to know where you met him!
Me: Wait, what? Nooooo idea what you're talking about. I don't know any Carlos.
Mexican Lady: (Confirms my number). That's YOU! I just want to know why Carlos has your number in his POCKET!
Me: Ma'am, I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't know a Carlos and have NO idea how he got my number. I'm sorry I can't be of more help, but I am at work, so I'm going to need to go.
Mexican Lady: Well I'm going to talk with him about this when he gets home...
Me: I hope that you do. Good luck with everything.
Mexican Lady: ...and we're going to text you later about it.
Me: Um, what? Whatever. Good luck.

Hung up.

WTF?! I am so weirded out right now. First of all, who the F is Carlos? And more importantly, why does he have my number??? I can't remember the last time I gave my number to a guy... maybe a month ago? (Kidding Mark). Seriously, I have no idea what is going on. Am I intrigued about being brought into a domestic scandal? Absolutely. Do I want anything more to do with this? Hell to the no. Will I update everyone if they text me later? Obviously.