One hour.
That's my commitment today. One hour of typing whatever comes to mind. Let's see what's rattling around the old noggin, eh?
Did you know that noggin actually refers to a small mug? Now you do.
Did you also know that in the course of typing that sentence I learned that my son butt dialed his dad? Now you do.
I find myself to be rather fond of being the recipient of a butt dial. Especially when it goes to voice mail. One time I heard the band teacher of my daughters school stop the cacophony of sound to remind the percussion section that they were not, in fact, supposed to make up their own tempo. That was his job. I got so far as to the end of class and a few garbled conversations at her locker before I realized that we were killing BOTH of our batteries. While I could easily charge mine, she could not. She had after school activities and would need to call me when she was done. When I picked her up she was curious how her battery had become so low when she hadn't used it and how I knew what had happened in band. It didn't take long to put it together. She tried to accuse me of stalking her, but I reminded her that she called me, making it more of an invitation to stalk her.
I've had some butt dials that were really not worth my time. Couldn't make out a thing! Then there was the time I inadvertently butt dialed 911. All of a sudden I was 7 years old again, terrified of what they would do to me because I didn't truly have an emergency. I was driving and had my phone in my pocket. It rang, so I picked it up. This was before hands free laws. It was emergency dispatch. Apparently the inside of my pocket sounded like it was having some kind of trouble and they wanted to be sure everything was alright. Very nice about the whole thing. The inside of my pocket was just fine, but was grounded from playing with my phone until it learned that calling 911 without an emergency is not funny.
I don't seem to make as many fanny calls with my new phone. Ha. Fanny calls. NOT the same thing as a booty call. Maybe the sleek designs are less conducive to pocket dialing. Maybe the phones really ARE smart enough to know better..... What will they do next? Start telling me to stop eating those cookies? That's where I draw the line. Allow my hind parts to call whoever you want, but start confirming what I already know about my eating habits and you've moved into nagging grandparent status. Not something I'd like to carry with me all day. I have enough voices in my head reminding me of my self imposed inadequacies, I don't need one in my pocket too!
Alright, upon further reflection, I have deemed one hour to be an excessive amount of time for this week. I couldn't, in good conscience, continue on for an additional 30 minutes, forcing you to optically sift through the insane ramblings of a syphilitic brain. I can be mean sometimes, but that's just cruel.
Next week then.
(where I may or may not have come up with a catchy sign off!)
TA!
(Yeah, that's not gonna work....)
That's my commitment today. One hour of typing whatever comes to mind. Let's see what's rattling around the old noggin, eh?
Did you know that noggin actually refers to a small mug? Now you do.
Did you also know that in the course of typing that sentence I learned that my son butt dialed his dad? Now you do.
I find myself to be rather fond of being the recipient of a butt dial. Especially when it goes to voice mail. One time I heard the band teacher of my daughters school stop the cacophony of sound to remind the percussion section that they were not, in fact, supposed to make up their own tempo. That was his job. I got so far as to the end of class and a few garbled conversations at her locker before I realized that we were killing BOTH of our batteries. While I could easily charge mine, she could not. She had after school activities and would need to call me when she was done. When I picked her up she was curious how her battery had become so low when she hadn't used it and how I knew what had happened in band. It didn't take long to put it together. She tried to accuse me of stalking her, but I reminded her that she called me, making it more of an invitation to stalk her.
I've had some butt dials that were really not worth my time. Couldn't make out a thing! Then there was the time I inadvertently butt dialed 911. All of a sudden I was 7 years old again, terrified of what they would do to me because I didn't truly have an emergency. I was driving and had my phone in my pocket. It rang, so I picked it up. This was before hands free laws. It was emergency dispatch. Apparently the inside of my pocket sounded like it was having some kind of trouble and they wanted to be sure everything was alright. Very nice about the whole thing. The inside of my pocket was just fine, but was grounded from playing with my phone until it learned that calling 911 without an emergency is not funny.
I don't seem to make as many fanny calls with my new phone. Ha. Fanny calls. NOT the same thing as a booty call. Maybe the sleek designs are less conducive to pocket dialing. Maybe the phones really ARE smart enough to know better..... What will they do next? Start telling me to stop eating those cookies? That's where I draw the line. Allow my hind parts to call whoever you want, but start confirming what I already know about my eating habits and you've moved into nagging grandparent status. Not something I'd like to carry with me all day. I have enough voices in my head reminding me of my self imposed inadequacies, I don't need one in my pocket too!
Alright, upon further reflection, I have deemed one hour to be an excessive amount of time for this week. I couldn't, in good conscience, continue on for an additional 30 minutes, forcing you to optically sift through the insane ramblings of a syphilitic brain. I can be mean sometimes, but that's just cruel.
Next week then.
(where I may or may not have come up with a catchy sign off!)
TA!
(Yeah, that's not gonna work....)
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2 comments:
Ta?!? really? Ta?
It's a work in progress. I think I need my mountain! That will help!
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