|Lookin’ Out My Front Door|
As I sit here writing this, a blizzard rages outside. Check out the photo at the right. I took it at 8:00AM EST. And just think we’ve only got about eight more hours of this!
Damn, I miss Texas.
I have a confession to make. I am a Gizmo-holic. Yes, I have traveled the rough and treacherous technological road to Gizmo-holism. I love gizmos and gadgets. Desktop computers, laptop computers, iPads, GPS and all the cool little gizmo enhancers that go with them. I do not yet own all these electronic wonders. I will soon, though. Count on it.
I do have a problem, however, with cell phones. While in many instances cell phones prove to be life savers and just plain old handy. But, I do not like them very much. One of the most popular features of today’s cell phones is the ability to text a friend or family member. I am still trying to figure out why you would text someone when right there in your greedy capitalist pig hand is a $500 cell phone – a cell phone hundreds of times more powerful than the first computers! A phone to me means a phone call! Fuck texting. Use the damn phone for what it is made for – making phone calls! Do I have to teach you dumbasses everything? Good Gawd, y’all.
Now, having said all that shit, I have written a few posts on dumbasses with cell phones who end up, shall we say, fucked. To see what I mean look here and here, and you’ll find dumbasses and their cell phones are not a particularly good combination. Well, guess what? I have come across another dumbass-with-a-cell-phone texting instead of making a phone call story. Go figger.
There’s this chick named Amy who like millions of other Americans has a cell phone. And like millions of other Americans she texts her friends, family and business associates. Of course, by “business associates”, I mean people to sell narcotics to. In a situation like this, texting is a real dumbfuck thing to do, but, being a mental midget, Amy texts her customers to meet her at Place A to pick up some stash. What Amy forgets is that if you text your “come buy drugs from me” message to the wrong number, the text is still there for the receiving party to read. A text of this nature in the “wrong” hands could be bad news for Amy. And it was. She sent her text meassage to a cop! Well, the cop’s face lit up like a fat kid at Chuck E. Cheese when he saw the text. Long story short, Amy got busted and now shares a cell (<— I made a funny) at the State Hilton with Marlene “Butch” Abernathy, the 3 Time defending Toughest Lesbian in the State Hilton award winner. Amy can look forward to fun and games with the other “girls” and probably write a book and go on Dr. Phil and become a millionaire ex-con bimbo. or a Cinemax at Night soft porn star recounting her days as a sex toy to a 6’3″ Lesbian in State Prison. Sick ain’t it?
I am jealous.