I love talking on the phone and I think I’m one of the last people in the world who feels this way. I read so much anti-phone hate, like it’s a sign of maturity and adulthood to only communicate via email and smoke signals and Facebook pokes. But it seems odd now to dial a friend’s number, just for the sheer pleasure of a quick conversation, a chance to ask important political questions like, “Can you believe this crap?!”
I know email and text messages have their place, but I’ve been gabbing for a long time and now I feel like I’m this weird outlier, the last one who doesn’t mind her cheeks reddened from radioactive waves emanating from her phone.
I don’t talk on my phone on the bus which is one of my rules I made up about commuting and no one else seems to follow because I once heard this woman loudly blabbing on about how her pants had a stain on the “ass part.” The ass part! Who doesn’t know another word for bottom, butt, rear, bum, etc.? But ass part! Excuse dear Brooks Brothers tailor, could you please hem these wool dress pants and repair the stitching on the ASS PART?!
I was talking to my sister yesterday who had to cut our conversation short to excuse herself to the ladies room. When she didn’t call me back after an hour, I dialed her number and blared: “DID YOU PEE OUT YOUR REMINDER TO CALL ME?!?”
Do you like to talk on the phone?
I’m sure my future will look something like this: WHAT AM I SAYING?! THIS IS ME, PRESENT DAY: