That’s what I’ve texted the folks from a certain party planning outfit that’s been sending unsolicited announcements my way. Every time they’ve had the urge to let me know — via text to my cell — about one of their terrific, not to be missed, shindigs, somewhere in one of the five Boroughs of NYC, I’ve send them back a polite request to cease and desist.
That’s actually not entirely true . I haven’t always been polite. At first, I ignored the announcements, but soon they began to get on my nerves. I pleaded that I was neither a partier nor a drinker and that even if I was, I would never go to one of theirs. I threaten to block them, but then found out that my carrier would charge me $4.95 per month, per number in need of blocking. Apparently spammers have a right to, well, spam. I am not that annoyed.
They continued to ignore my pleadings. I continued to curse them under my breath. Then, yesterday I remembered the National Dot Not Call Registry.
So far, it’s working.