The Nappy Diatribe

Getting a Cell Phone is a Sign of Maturity, for Me Anyways

Posted 06/03/2007 at 4:14 PM  |  2 comment/s

Well folks, I finally did it - after years of avoiding cell phones like the plague or Tyler Perry movies, I finally decided to join the rest of civilization and purchase some good old fashioned wireless communication. Sure, I've had a cell phone or two in my day - but the last time that I had contact with the outside world via telephone besides my designated landline was when Lauryn Hill was having a nervous fucking breakdown on Mtv's "Unplugged". It's not that I was scared that I'd inappropriately use the phone's vibrate function on those cold and lonely nights. I didn't have any particular fear of me sporadically sending pictures of my cock that I had taken with my cameraphone to a few of the nuns who taught at my Catholic school back in the day. The thought of me constantly instant messaging an ex who recently turned to lesbianism and typing "Your new girlfriend is manlier than I am! Just come over girl and get properly fucked on some "Move over bacon now there's something meatier" shit!!" never crossed my mind either. I simply avoided getting a cell phone because I'm a prick of the insufferable variety, and there has always been something sort of comforting about being elusive - even to my closest friends and family. I guess that's the closet recluse in me, willing to tell every sordid detail of my chubby pre-ejaculatory life on this very blog but at the same time keeping the people that I love at arms length like a boxer strategically using his jab.

So besides me ditching the Willy Wonka pajamas with the hole in the front for easy access (*wink* Ladies!), no longer putting ashtrays on women's back during the doggie-style position, and no longer cutting off lifelong friendships if the person happens to like a rapper that I loathe or despise a movie that I adore - the purchase of a cell phone actually makes me resemble an adult. But having a cell phone is going to ruin my habit of being a shitty friend and a detestable lover. Let me explain.

When you have a cellphone there's only a limited amount of time that you can say that your battery was died, that you were in an area that got shitty service, that your ringer was accidentally turned off - excuses on that nature. But when you don't have a cellphone life can be beautiful, that friend who needed your help during his crosstown move, that carless bastard who needed a ride something terrible, that casual acquaintance upset that you sodomized his girlfriend without his consent - you can sincerely act apologetic after the fact and say that you wish that you could have been of service, but really not giving a fuck and thanking the heavens that you didn't have a cell phone. The various women who I characterize as "Practice Vagina," they would have to believe whatever came out of your mouth concerning your whereabouts - lord knows they didn't have that "I was calling your cellphone all day!" trump card to pull out. Yes, it seems that my days of fully embracing my inner asshole are over - even though I've yet to focus on my outer asshole though. (OK, that sounded kind of gay.)

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