Fun for Obsessive Compulsive Paranoid Schizophrenics

Like me.
Why do I have a phone with caller ID? I never use my landline. I actually seem to keep it as some sort of $35 a month joke. When my home phone rings (which is rarely), I tend to look at the ID and see if I want to answer it. Usually the ID comes up as some type of "888-WANTMNY" variant; a charity (like People for the Ethical Treatment of Sock Puppets) who wants my financial support. Granted, I care about sock puppets as much as the next person, and while I am moved by their plight (especially having to overcome such horrific beginnings as someone's foot covering) and impressed with their dedication to enlighten and entertain, I simply don't have the resources to donate to the 2006 Darning Pledge Drive (ohh the holes! those poor poking-through digits!).
(In all honesty, it could also be India calling and offering to get me into debt at a wonderfully low percentage rate, but that's another discussion...)

If I can't tell who it is, though, I start to get, well, anal retentive and all Google-y.
At this point, I can't tell who the caller from Toronto, ON is. A reverse phone lookup gives me bupkiss. Come on now, don't be shy. I would answer if you wouldn't hang up after the fourth ring. Who are you?

Caller ID is dangerous.

Reverse Phone Number Lookup is obsessive.

I need better hobbies.

Oooh. Photoshop.