Monday, January 4, 2010

Life is like a broken sprinkler

Tried answering my mobile phone today. Here's an interesting thing about my mobile phone: it takes going through about 26 prompts in order to answer a call, but you can dump a call with just one (usually accidental) push of the button. Isn't that great? If I'm on the phone, and I received another call I'd like to answer, it goes something like this: answer call? Switch to answered call? Talk to person whose call you switched to and/or answered? Are you sure? No, I mean REALLY sure? Like, you know, sure-sure? OK, here they are....ha! Not really, I'm not convinced you really want to have this conversation. You do? Honestly? OK...but I think you're making a mistake...plus, I think you borrowed his leaf blower last fall and never returned it. But go ahead if you like, but you'll be sorry. Plus the guy's kind of a dick. Oh, you'd like too anyways? Still? OK. Answer call? Switch to answered call?

You get the idea. But if you want (or not) to dump a call...one push of the button is all it takes and it's "SAYONARA MOTHER FUCKER! I'll talk to you in Hell!!!!!" Usually, this happens by accident, and as I'm attempting to re-dial the person whose call I just nuked, they're trying to call me back, and I have to go through the 26 prompt torture session to again try and retrieve the call. They then again get dumped and this Danse Macabre continues ad infinitum. This made me ponder just how smart these so called "smart" phones are going to get, since they seem to be able to determine just when somebody is actually worth talking to. Maybe you won't even be using them and they'll start up unexpectedly as they sit in your pocket and start talking to you. For instance you'll be at the store looking at a shirt and your phone will suddenly say "Dude, please tell me you're not considering buying that shirt...I mean, what are you going to match it with? Parachute pants?" Or you'll be at a bar, drunk out of your mind, chatting up somebody and your phone will start up with "Really? Has your life gotten so bad that a sweaty encounter with this troll seems like a good idea? Hey, while your at it, since you seem so Hell bent on demeaning yourself, why don't you go ahead and take a dump in the potted palm in the corner while singing 'Dont Cry for Me Argentina' at the top of your lungs, then walk away with your pants around your ankles and state to the bartender "Keep the change". As you can see, the phones of tomorrow will be smart, as well as sarcastic AND passive-aggressive.

Was watching TV and saw what was the two most perfect, and true to life scenes I have seen in some time. One was this guys little soliloquy about how his friend is always running late because "When you're constantly late, you never have to think. All you can keep in your mind is the aggravation of the traffic and traffic lights that you feel is making you even later for your destination. It keeps your mind occupied. When you're early and relaxed, your mind wanders, and you're forced to look in your rear view mirror and wonder who you really are..." Fuckin A. Not bad. I saw a lot of truth in that. The other scene was this 40 something guy who has this intense and philosophical encounter with his teenage daughter's ex-boyfriend. He feels like he has given this heart broke lad some important life tips, and maybe, just maybe, connected with him in a way that is going to serve the "not yet quite a man" well as he continues with his life. He then walks away and stands in his yard, pondering and savoring the experience...and has a look of a man who may, in fact, be reflecting back on his own bitter sweet youth. Then a sprinkler explodes and a geyser of water erupts into the sky. Reality sets in, and the bullshit necessities of life quickly snuff out his "win". I thought to myself "Holy shit...that was....perfect." Anyways, that was the truest slice of life I have seen on TV in quite some time. Who knows? Maybe next time the show will show somebody taking a dump in a potted palm...and I know I will have found a new show for me.

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