Dad...I Promise To Never Text You About My "1st Time"...

There is a phenomenon out there called "texting" that I just don't understand. It baffles me. Am I that far "out" of things that I am now 30 years old and...gulp...super "uncool"?

Ok, I can admit it...I have never been "cool", but I have always understood or at least admired everything that was indeed "cool". I participated in the whole pegging of the jeans thing. I owned the Victoria's Secret satin bra with no boobs to fill it. I sprayed my hair with AquaNet and smacked my lips with Bonnie Bell. I got it...but I don't now.

Remember pagers? I got pagers...I didn't have one...but I got them. Hello, call me now...911...you are needed. There weren't cell phones then...so of course this was communication at its finest...perfectly acceptable. Now we text, we twitter, we blackberry or whatever, we facebook, we blog. We have bastardized the English language...we have perverted simple communication skills...we have warped our connection to each other. I am so far outta the game.

I just got my first cell phone last year. I don't even know my own phone number. I never turn it on and nobody can get ahold of me. It is for emergencies...and playing Tetris while I'm on the toilet. I don't know how to "text". I don't get why I should be "texting" anyway. Can't I just call and leave a message or simply phone say, "hello?" I guess I now understand how my parents feel about e-mail. My texting is like my father's chicken peck typing skills...slow, muddled, and with complete lack of interest. How is texting easier than leaving a message? I have to press the numbers a billion times to say...WTF! This is not convenience.

If you need to tell me something...please don't text me. You can call and leave a message...I promise I won't pick up...my phone isn't even on...there is no chance of your having to hear my voice, or actually hold a conversation...I guarantee it. You can e-mail me too...I do check those (need a good price on a penis enlarger or some Xanax???) You can "snail mail" me. I still love getting a real live letter as much as when I was 5 years old.

We can plan and plot and bicker all without cramping our thumbs

...but maybe not our "style"...

That's all for now,

Brandi