Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Texting...God bless it, but God damn it.

Texting. I have to say, I bucked it, and I resisted it for a good long while. It reminded me of the advent of call texting, I could see it's practicality, but I was fine without it. After all, I'd survived up until that point just calling someone back when there was no longer a busy signal. Then my parents got call waiting on our phone, and slowly I grew to depend on the tiny beep that abruptly cut off the words of the person talking on the other end. It started get to the point that when I'd get a busy signal, I'd curse the person for living in the dark ages. I couldn't imagine life without it, and frankly...I didn't want to. Now, literally EVERYONE has call you remember the last time you heard a busy signal? Go ahead, think about it...I'll bet you either can't remember when it was, or it was a loooooooong time ago.

This is where I fear we're going with texting. We're becoming a text dependent society. And it's really not saving us any fact, it takes me longer to type out a text than it would to just call the person back and give them my reply. And I do that sometimes...I just can't be bothered. There are good things, no, GREAT things about texting, and I'd be lost without it...confirming a location, getting a quick question answered, all makes life a little bit easier. My issue begins when texting becomes a substitute for a full conversation. Good Lord, just call me if you want to know how I'm doing! I can't deal with the limited vocabulary of my T9 to convey my thoughts, while trying to fit it into 160 characters or less (my phone is over 2 years old...I can't text an entire novel yet like everyone else can on their CrackBerrys). Nothing has become more annoying than starting to date a guy that is a chronic texter and word-abbreviater. OMG, can't you give me the courtesy of calling me to ask me for a date? And FYI, nothing makes us ladies feel more special than "Hey. R U Free 2morrow nite?". Classy. Sack it up, be a man, and call me for God sakes. You wouldn't text your Mom on Mother's Day, so don't do it to me to ask me out.

Now I'm sure you're all wondering what the hell Mr. Pretty in the picture here is wearing. Do any of you out there remember the movie Demolition Man? There's a scene where Sandra Bullock brings Sylvester Stallone back to her apartment and asks him to have sex with her. As if the idea of someone VOLUNTARILY propositioning Sly for sex wasn't enough comedy for the masses, she comes out with these two helmets (see lame picture), and they proceed to have ultra-sterile virtual sex from opposite sides of the room (the scene is up on You it). This helmet-massager guy reminded me of that scene. They look ridiculous. No matter how good looking you are, you are guaranteed to look like a total tard wearing this thing. NOT SEXY. Victoria's Secret won't be carrying these anytime soon.

BTW, the point is (and I AM getting to it) that we as humans are beginning to detach ourselves from each other by texting instead of actually talking to each other. Granted, Demolition Man took it to the extreme, but the point was that people became so detached from each other, that basic human contact started to seem foreign, unnatural, and downright icky. So, for the sake of mankind, don't underestimate the value of an actual conversation with your BFF. Hell, if you're feeling really saucy, why not meet them for coffee/conversation in PERSON?! But I digress...this may be too much at one time. Baby steps....

Now, what did we learn today, boys and girls? Don't over-text people...or you'll end up having helmet sex with Rambo in the year 2032. LOL.



Jeff Wilcox said...

I love your rants...I'm hooked!

Vicki (Rinder) Fisher said...

STFU. J & I hv helmet sex ATT!

BTW, u want 2 hookup 2mrrow nite?