Apathy Jack writes:
Observation the first:
As I mentioned a while back, my school has given me a cellphone because that is how we’ll be taking the roll in the twenty-first century. And you know, I don’t think I’ve ever received a more disgusted look than the glare I got from my friend Lily Petals when we had the following conversation:
“Did you get the texts I sent you over the weekend?”
“No, my phone was off.”
“I don’t need to take the roll on the weekends.”
But anyway, going Christmas shopping for the grandparents, so have to meet my brother in town. He insists that I bring my cellphone so he can text me with the place to meet.
When I get the text asking where I am, I want to reply that I’m in the Downtown shopping center. I get as far as telling him that I am Fox Enzyme before completely giving up on all forms of cellular communication whatsoever.
Most of the people I know with cellphones spell the word “you” with one letter – and yet the predictive text program on my phone assumes that these illiterates are more likely to type the word “enzyme” than “down”?
I’m sure the future wasn’t supposed to be like this...
Observation the second:
When you are a munty looking beardo with long hair, and you go up to a counter with Rammstein’s new album and the latest offering from Shakira (the wonderfully titled Oral Fixation vol.2), it turns out that the Shop Drone assumes the Shakira album is a present for someone. It apparently hadn’t occurred to him that I was buying the Rammstein as an afterthought because I saw it going cheap.
Just as well I bought the Ashlee Simpson ‘Boyfriend’ single at another shop, really.
Observation the third:
Despite some libelous rumours started by Josh recently, I am in no way shape or form remotely gothic. Sure I know lots of goths (like Ben - and Josh himself for that matter) but I myself am not one. However, because of my close personal... acknowledgement of their existence, I always scan any members of the trenchcoat mafia that I pass on the street for signs of familiarity.
So I was walking up the road and looking at the little goth walking towards me, wondering why she seemed so familiar. Then, as I got closer, from under the makeup and angst, came a cheerful “Hello, Mister.”
It does the heart proud, it really does.