So I got my new BlackBerry a few days ago. I’ve already fallen in love with it and as with all objects of my affection, I’ve also already hurt it. Dropped it crossing the parking lot on day two and the cement took a bite out of it. It immediately started crying and the cement said, “Suck it up and make me a sandwich.” Sonuva bitch if the sandwich wasn’t ready within 2 minutes and contained the finest sliced meats one could expect to find in a parking lot.
Gotta say that I still don’t have a handle on the vibrating/blinking/notification lights on this fucker. Another month or two and I should have it down. I remember many cell phones ago back around 2000 that I was the first guy I knew to have a song as a ringtone. It was Take On Me. Why? Because when reduced to beeps and boops the song retains all its coolness. I got rid of that ringtone and all song-related alerts when I realized shortly thereafter that it’s a phone and it should be acting as such. The rest of the World hasn’t followed suit.
Today I woke earlier than usual for a Saturday and installed some updates to make life less miserable for tonight’s North America Cup. All went well and now I’m home and undecided on whether I’ll be going to shoot the horse show tomorrow in NOTL. Will have to make it a last minute call in the morning. If I don’t go and someone asks why I didn’t go, I’m just gonna say, “I didn’t want to.” I’m sick of explaining myself.
Furthermore, I’m sick of talking altogether. Nothing especially good comes of it and I’m usually concerned that either a) I have ass breath or b) people are staring at my tooth gap. Heaven help me on a day when both fears team up. Those are the days you can’t find me and you hear gentle sobbing as you pass my office. When this happens, open the door and toss in a walnut crunch donut. Please?
Enjoy another awesome sketch from Kids in the Hall. If this isn’t the type of father I become then I don’t even know myself anymore.