I Just Called to Say I love You, Baby Jesus

In a previous post, I alluded to the fact that my stepdad's sister lived next door to Joe Mauer (or as Deano calls him, Baby Jesus). I say lived because she sold her town house recently. I am furious about it. I had a small connection to the best player in baseball right now. And he's hotter than hell. And he lives with Justin Morneau, who is on pace to break Harmon Killebrew's single season homerun and RBI records for the Twins (now I call Justin "Baby Harmon"). My aunt let that all slip away when she sold that house. I don't even care that she doesn't like baseball.

When I was in Minneapolis I was giving her a complete verbal beat down about selling her house. "How could you do this to me?!" I kept asking. To soothe my pain and pacify my ranting, she flipped open her cell phone and and looked up Joe Mauer (she's called him several times for autographs to auction off for charity through her work). Then she gave me his number. So now that she doesn't live next to him anymore, I still have a little connection with him, and I am satisfied with it. But I promised myself I would never ever call the number. Well, maybe once from a pay phone during a game just to hear what his outgoing voicemail message sounds like. Maybe.

Anyway, I've sort of thought of having his number in my cell phone as my little secret. My one-up on the other Twins fans. And I've been responsible with it.

Well tonight, we went to eat at Tijuana flats and then went to Barnes & Noble. Our usual Friday date. At Barnes & Noble I realized I didn't have my cell phone. I assumed I had either left it at home or at the lab, so I wasn't in too big of a hurry. When we got home, I used Dean's phone to call mine to make sure it wasn't in the apartment. I let it ring a couple times and then headed to the lab. In the lab I didn't see it, so I called it again. It rang once and then I heard,

"The Cingular customer you are trying to reach is currently on the phone."

My stomach dropped. Someone has my phone, and they are talking on it right now.

Then:

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. That person now has Joe Mauer's phone number and is obsessively calling him to the point where Joe will confront ME about it. He will hate my guts, as will my aunt and then Joe will change his number. All because of me having to have his number in my phone, which I managed to lose. Less than a week after I got the phone. And the number. Oh my God.

Well, I haven't heard anything from Joe, even though he's been busy getting his ass kicked along with the rest of the team by Texas. But My dad called Dean to say that a woman had found my phone and called him from it to find out who/where I was. I finally called my phone and got a hold of her. She found it in the Tijuana flats parking lot. Interesting tidbit: The Motorola RAZR is very resilient and can handle being dropped.

I met up with her at a bar to get it back. She told me she was drinking at the bar she usually works at. I thought it would be dumb to buy her a drink since she probably drinks for free anyway. So I brought her a small bag of my coveted truffles. I hope she appreciates them. She was very nice and it's great that there are people like her in the world.

And I'm changing Joe's name in my phone book from "Joe Mauer" to "Baby Jesus". Just in case.