The Cellphone

My first cell phone was as big as my face and Dan got it for me when I started working in Rosamond - far away from civilization, as far as he was concerned. I often rode to work with a gal who ran out of gas once - this was all the reason he needed to get me a cellphone. He already had one - attached to the floorboard of his truck with screws and a phone cord. Very fancy.

When the big one died - because they all have a built-in "self-destruct" computer chip that guarantees you are going to have to go back to fancy Cell Phone Store as soon as the "contract" is up, Dan got me a slimmer version that had number keys so small I had to use a toothpick to dial out. Lucky for me I am not much of a cell phone talker because keeping a toothpick on hand sounds easier than it really is. This phone was apparently so bad that I started getting teased about it. But I didn't care - it worked when I needed it. Once, I even had it ON when Dan tried to call me during a Medical Emergency. (Dustin almost had his finger sliced off at work.) And then it stopped working and Dan got annoyed because I was commuting to the other ends of the Earth, Lake Los Angeles, without one.

Now, Dustin had a "fancy" one that I inherited when this cheap one finally sputtered it's last cell*ular breath. By "fancy," I mean that it flipped open.

Then, just like that, it stopped working. Dustin KNEW it was on its last breath when he gave it to me. But he figured I wouldn't catch on for awhile and he was right. He had replaced his with one that flips open to a KEYBOARD. It takes pictures, makes phone calls, wakes him up for work, and does the dishes. (It leaves streaks but hey - what do you expect from an electronic device?)

So, I asked Dustin to go get me a new phone because he speaks Cell*ular and gets along great with the Brittneys and Jasons who work behind the counter at the Great Cell*ular Place, where fingers fly across keyboards and they serious things about contracts, minutes, texting, and the dangers of pedicures from that place at the end of the mall. I was ready for a more "serious" cell phone.

However, SON delegating this job to DAD. Dad knows even LESS about Cell*ular Stuff than I do - having CHOSEN, of his own accord, the cheeepest, and I do mean CHEEESIEST phone on the planet. The one they keep behind the counter and put in a paper bag to give you so nobody COOL will actually see them handling it.

So. Dan gets me the exact replica of his cheeep and cheeesy phone. It will do text messaging but only if the stars and planets are aligned just so. It has ring*tones - but I keep silencing the dang thing just by being NEAR it and can never figure out HOW to make it ring out loud.
People ALWAYS complain that they call me on my Cell and I don't pick up. Well, shoot - I would pick up if I HEARD the thing.

Anyway.. the moral of the story is to not let my husband pick out the phone, that's all I can say.
:-)K