Going mobile

You know how some people think they would probably die without food, water and shelter? I'm not one of those people. I'm one of those people who thinks I would probably die without a phone.

If I were ship wrecked on a desert island, while the other survivors were setting up shelter, starting a fire, and catching fish with their bare hands (and drawing faces on volley balls) I would be searching for a cell tower. Not necessarily to call for help, but to check my Facebook status and to see if I'd missed any calls. While the others were screaming, "Fresh water!" I'd be squealing, "Yay! I have full bars!!!" (And my status update would be something like, "I can't believe I broke a nail! Fuck you, Desert Island.")

Sad but true.

I know this about myself. I'm not proud of it, but I freely admit it. I am a phone-aholic.

When phones went to cordless, I was ecstatic. I could cook, clean, change diapers, and go to the bathroom without ever having to get off the phone. I could chat on the phone while I took a bath. The only thing that could have made me happier would be a mini bar and a tv in my bathroom. (It's my Life's Goal, people. Before I die I will have a mini bar and a tv in my bathroom. Who says I'm not ambitious and don't have goals, MOM?)

The happiest day of my life was the day I got my first cellphone. (Sorry, kids. You're a very close second. Or maybe even a tie.) I could take my phone with me. I was no longer confined to the boundaries of a land line... I was mobile.

It was like, "I can drive and talk on the phone? Ohhh myyyy GODDDDD! Who needs a man!"

When the law came around and stopped me from talking and texting while driving I was okay with that... I mean, that's why God invented Bluetooth, am I right? Because you can't give me a phone that works in my car and then tell me I can't use it. I'm pretty sure that's a complete violation of the 8th Amendment.

(Sidebar: I had to google this info, fyi, because I wasn't sure which amendment it was. So I typed in 'law against cruel and inhumane punishment' and one of the things that came up was "Law Against Sagging Pants." Now that I know there's a law against sagging pants, I plan on making quite a few citizen's arrests. PULL YOUR PANTS UP, KID! JESUS!)

Here's what it says about the 8th Amendment, from the anals of Congress (annals, anals,.. same thing): ''No cruel and unusual punishment is to be inflicted; it is sometimes necessary to hang a man, villains often deserve whipping, and perhaps having their ears cut off; but are we in the future to be prevented from inflicting these punishments because they are cruel? If a more lenient mode of correcting vice and deterring others from the commission of it would be invented, it would be very prudent in the Legislature to adopt it; but until we have some security that this will be done, we ought not to be restrained from making necessary laws by any declaration of this kind.''

Right?

And I'm pretty sure that means "Don't give a girl a phone that she can talk on while she's driving and then tell her she can't use it because otherwise, someone's going to lose an ear or get a whipping. Or swing from the neck til dead."

(That's how I interpret it, anyway.)

So today, for some reason, my CELLPHONE ISN'T WORKING. This is making me feel all loud and stabby and like TYPING IN ALL CAPS. I have the battery out and will recharge in a minute but I'm telling you all HERE AND NOW: If this matter does not resolve itself SOON, Verizon will have some 'splainin' to do. And where I come from? 'Splainin' means "GIVE ME A GODDAMN PHONE THAT WORKS, STAT!"

*withdrawals*

*dt's*

*pain and suffering*

*whimper*

*get me a rope and some ear removers*

WHAT IF SOMETHING IS HAPPENING ON FACEBOOK RIGHT THIS SECOND AND I DON'T KNOW ABOUT IT?

I may never be the same.

Dear Dani,

Love,

Verizon

When Facebook Attacks...

I'm a little butthurt. I admit it. Facebook hurt my feelings and I'm not sure I'm going to get over it any time soon.

Their side of the story:

Apparently, I sent out a Friend Request to someone who doesn't know me. Rather than scratch their heads and think to themselves, "Hmmmm... maybe I just don't recognize her last name because, you know, she's had several, and she is, like, 30 years older than she was in high school... maybe she looks a little different?" they ratted me out to Facebook. Facebook took it upon themselves to send me a slap on the wrist and ground me from my Friend Requesting Privileges for 7 Days.

Dear Danielle,

We were informed that you have sent out a Friend Request to someone who doesn't know you. You must be punished. You may ONLY send out Friend Requests to people who recognize your name, have met you in person, and had lunch with you at least twice in the past 6 months. Otherwise, we will remove all Friend Requesting privileges and you will die alone.

Love,

The Facebooking Team

P.S.

You have 7 days to straighten your ass up.

Hopefully, in that time frame, I will learn my lesson. Otherwise life as we know it will cease to exist.

My side of the story: I only send out Friend Requests to people I think I know. I don't randomly request strangers, generally I request people whose blogs I read and have a little tab that says "Follow Me On Facebook!" (hey... don't invite me if you don't want me to come to your party, you jerk) or people I remember from high school. That's about it. If you don't remember me from high school, that's fine. I don't remember a lot of you, either. But when I see we went to the same high school and you graduated the same year I did, I give you the benefit of the doubt and accept your Friend Request because, you know, I'm not an asshole.

What kind of tattle-tale tells FACEBOOK on you? "Ummm, Facebook? This girl, Danielle Something Something Lots of Last Names? Sent me a Friend Request. Now my pee-pee hurts."

I can't believe I'm being grounded by Facebook.

Oh, the HUMANITY!!!

Chillin' and Relaxin' all coool....

By most accounts (well, mine, at any rate), I am a fairly level -headed, easygoing person. (No, really... I am. I am. Yes I AM! Well, FUCK you then!) I can go with just about any flow and I take bad news and most of life's many, MANY kicks in the pants with grace, dignity and good humor.

(I DO TOO! What do YOU know? Who are you, anyway?)

Very few things get me rattled. Actually, the list is so small as to be practically non-existent. These are the things that knock me for a loop and make me freak out in my own special way:

1. Running out of toilet paper. That right there, is a biggie. If I notice that I'm down to less than half a roll and there isn't any more in the house, I lose it. No really, I do. I sent Dan to the store yesterday with $5 in quarters to get an emergency supply until I could go to Walmart to stock up. (I was sitting on the toilet when I sent him. It wasn't a proud moment, for sure... but it was effective.)

Me: *bellowing* "Dan! DAN!! We're almost out of toilet paper!!

Dan: "What?"

Me: *louder* WE'RE ALMOST OUT OF TOILET PAPER!"

Gah! I can hear myself echoing down the pipes and into Mr. Awesome's apartment.

(Did you get that, Mr. Awesome? Did you and all your friends that you had over yesterday watching football get that?)

Dan, of course, still can't hear me.

Dan: "Huh? Can't hear youuuu...."

Me: *grabbing my cell, because yeah... I'm one of those people who talks on the phone while I'm in the bathroom. Deal with it* "Ring ring...."

Dan: "Hello?"

Me: "We're almost out of toilet paper."

Dan:

Me:

Dan: "Soooooo...?"

Me: "So go get some. Take change out of my purse."

Dan: "Now???"

Me: "YES NOW! I'M IN THE BATHROOM AND I NEED TOILET PAPER!"

(Okay, that was a slight exaggeration. I had half a roll and I wasn't in dire emergency. But like I said, when that's all that's left, I panic. You never know what is going to happen. You just DON'T.

2. Running out of coffee. No coffee is a bad, bad thing. No coffee makes everyone very. afraid. We do not run out of coffee. Ever. It's too horrible to even contemplate. When I notice my coffee getting low I get a little frantic. I've been known to send Dan to the store at midnight just to buy me coffee in case I don't have quite enough to make a smooth, rich pot in the morning. (This is why I'm married, by the way. I don't like running to the store for anything. It's HIS job to hit the all night grocery stores for Tums, Kotex, Toilet Paper, Coffee, NyQuil, Tylenol, and Pamprin. It's my job to stay home relaxing on the couch while he does that.)

3. Mayonnaise: You can read all about that here: http://deathbycupcakes01.blogspot.com/2011/09/grosscondimentophobia.html

Because I WILL lose my shit over mayonnaise.

4. Bats: Anything that flies and could land in my hair. Because if it flies and lands in my hair, I will assume it's a bat and react accordingly. "Reacting Accordingly" involves Full Blown Stationary Panic, with screaming and slapping myself in the head and face until it's gone or dead. (My apologies to the baby bird I beat to death when it landed in my hair.)

Other than the above? I'm chill, yo.

And since Dan freaks out about literally everything else, we balance eachother out.