Blondie, “Call Me”

That’s right, I just quoted Blondie in an online internet blog post. Now to slit my wrists. But not before I declare to the world (three of you) that I now have a cellular telephone. That’s right. No longer will I be able to rage against the eternal machine, no longer will I remain phoneless in a world of annoying ringtones and bad cell phone-wielding drivers. I now own a phone, because I love having more things to worry about. It’s pre-paid, though, so actually… don’t call me any time, on the line. Because I can’t afford it.

I just never thought I’d own one of these pieces of shit, cause I never really wanted one. I don’t like talking on the phone. I don’t see why I’d need to carry one around on me at all times. I don’t like people who need to be on the phone all the time. I don’t see it as a necessity. I don’t see it as being worth the money. And finally, texting is the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard of, considering you’re holding a PHONE IN YOUR HAND and you could CALL SOMEONE AND JUST SAY IT, but I guess it has its uses, so here I am.

All I can say is: I hope I get reception in the old man’s cave of hate and bitter darkness in which I reside. If not, it’s going back to Wal-Mart… if I can psyche myself up to step foot in there again. (It eats a little bit of my heart every time those automatic doors slide open, man. It really does.)