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The Cell Phone God’s are not pleased.

A lot of people have many layers, like an onion.

I am no different.

Asshole, by the way, is a layer unto itself.

Its healthy, in a way, to embrace the asshole within.

Let him out on occasion, let him piss on the grass, decompress.

Some of us need that decompression, for the safety of the general public.

Trust me on this, the last thing ANYBODY needs is me all twisted up.

Its not pretty, and thats just looking at it from this side, God knows what it looks like from your side.

I’m a mess, but thats ok, I have accepted it.

Nuff said.

Moving on.

There is a certain feeling of dread that runs thru you when your iPhone falls in the toilet.

Its an ass pucker of 9 out of 10.

Even if you snatch it out immediately, you have no idea of how bad or good it is at this point.

So you wash your hands immediately while muttering the F-word under your breath.

I tapped my phone in my palm for lack of anything better to do.

And the little bit of moisture that comes out is not reassuring in any way.

So, I googled it.

According to several websites on the subject, Turn off the phone immediately.

I didn’t know if it was off or on, so I held the button on.

Shit, the boot up white apple logo came up.

It was already off. Great.

The main screen came on, but I shut it off anyway.

It has been in a ziplock of white rice for 24 hours.

I thought about using brown rice, but I wasn’t sure if glycemic rating played a part.

I stared at it for a solid 5 minutes.

Can you see water evaporating?

I finally broke down and went to Fry’s Electronics and bought a cell phone dry bag.

For those not in the know, it is a high tech ziplock with 2 large gel bags.

Larger versions of those toxic gel packets you find in a new pair of shoes.

Its later.

I keep staring over to the counter where the iPhone sits in its high tech drying bag.

Water damage is not covered by warranty.

Being an idiot is rarely covered by warranty.

So for the next 24 hours, the iPhone is locked in its bubble.

And tomorrow I get to find out if I dodged a bullet or did I cost myself a ridiculous amount of money to fix my stupidity.

And I am pretty sure my ass cheeks will not unclench until then.

Maybe.

And the bad thing is, I know in the back of my head, that it is just a cell phone.

Except that it isn’t.

Its an addiction, plain and simple.

Between email, Facebook, Twitter, and an embarrassing slew of stupid apps, the phone is up there with crack, but has the apparent acceptability of coffee.

Which is an addiction of a different sort.

But this is not about me.

Psych!

Its always about me.

We’ve met, right?

 
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Posted by on February 17, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Sorry to bother you…

Every now and then, I meet a total stranger that just pisses me off without warning.

And I think that the parents out there will be joining me in the pissed off realm.

By the way, I am a father of two.

I ride my bicycle to work some days, mainly because its southern California and you kind of feel like you have to.

Manhattan Beach is a beautiful place. There are times that it catches you off guard and throws you for a loop. It mostly has to do with money and the people who have too damn much of it.

There is a little side street off of the main drag in downtown Manhattan. It is a one way and has a parking garage on one side and restaurants on the other.

I come rolling around the corner and see something a little odd.

There is a baby in the middle of the street.

Take a second and let that one sink in.

There is a baby in the middle of the street.

This is not the set of boys in the hood, with a crack baby in the middle of the street.

This is Manhattan beach. It would take about five minutes to ride far enough to find a house worth less than a million dollars.

A car is stopped a half block away, rolling an inch at a time, the driver reluctant to come further.

I start flying towards the kid.

I all but screech to a stop, putting my bike between the kid and the car, who has come to a complete stop.

There is a woman walking slowly up the walk pushing a stroller.

She is on her cell phone. I have a cell phone too, but at that age, my daughter was either at home, in her stroller, or had her hand in mine, without exception.

“HEY MOM!”

In retrospect, I think I yelled a little too loud, or maybe not, after all….

THERE WAS A FUCKING BABY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET!

The woman turned around startled. She keeps talking on the phone and begins to saunter back towards me.

As she gets close, I give her a WTF? look.

She blows it off, glaring at me and picks up the baby.

As she walks off, a snatch of her cell phone conversation drifts back.

“-some guy being an asshole.”

Right.

I am pissed and confused and angry and hurt and about five other things, and for the first time in a god damned looooooong time, I am speechless.

I want to rip her a new one, but I really am pretty stunned by what just happened.

I roll out of the way and let the car roll by.

The passenger side window rolls down as the car goes by.

“YOU STUPID BITCH!”

And he drives off.

Here, here.

I cannot agree with you more.

Perhaps not with profanity, but with a stern voice, I could have talked to her and …..no. That would not have worked.

I should have called her a stupid bitch. That is what is really bugging me. For those that hang up on that word, sorry, but it really does fit.

Because then, god forbid something happen due to her lack of common sense, maybe she would get it. She would agree in the back of her head.

She is a stupid bitch.

 
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Posted by on September 13, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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