That's Not What I Meat!
"No no no no! That's not what I meant! I meant to say...oh nevermind."
At night I retire to my big fluffy bed and I take my iPod touch with me, with WiFi I can check the web and my email. If you are like me, you have not so dextrous fingers. How do they expect me to type out a word with my big fingertips onto a tiny itty bitty keyboard? I mean really, unless you have E.T.'s one big finger, I don't know how anyone can type out a full sentence without typing out at least one spelling mistake.
"Meat me at Moom's"
There are times when I don't bother to backspace to fix spelling errors. If they are my friend, then they can figure out what I was trying to say. True friends put up with anagrams for messages and take the time to pull out a pen and paper and un-jumble my words.
; ' ! @ % / ?
Don't get me started on adding all the proper accoutrements to a sentence, like "," or even a "?". Why? because you have to switch to a different keypad. I am a caveman with a wooden club pounding out a sentence in short grunts, and then flinging it against the cave wall hoping the recipient understands my snorts and huffing and puffing.
What Am I Going to Do When I Am Really Old?
Once I ride over the 80+ hill, will I be texting? Will I even be able to type out "Help me I have fallen down"? Will it read "Herp me I has pollen doon"? Either way, I am hoping by then the future will have a jet pack ready for me and I can just zoom off to the doctor on my own and that I will just transmit my thoughts via microfibers in my wig. And what will I transmit? Probably "Meat me at Filth and Sexth"
Image: Ophelia Chong / Sausages