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Hell Phones
Written on 2002-04-14, at 12:53 a.m.
dizboy's disturbing daily diet...

6 Medium Zingers (Boneless chicken wings)

3 Pieces of Celery

1 Large Sweet Tea

1 Cup Jell-O Chocolate Pudding

4 Pieces Garlic Cheese Bread

7 Slices Pepperoni and Cheese Pizza

1 Large Coke

John Live*

Stupider LIKE A FOX!!

That has nothing to do with the picture, but it's my favorite Homer Simpson quote.

*Not at all live

Would someone like to tell me just when going into a cellular retailer sunk down to the level of going to the DMV?

Because, you know, it has.

Here's an entry where I'll sound all snooty and shallow, so don't say I didn't let you know well in advance.

I went into the Cingular Wireless store the other day to have my Nokia turned off, and my Motorola turned on, as it's easier for me to use at work.

Walking into the store, I was asked to sign in, and wait.

I signed in, writing my name...


And my time of arrival...


Ok, so maybe I only wrote it in military time to be a smart-ass, I had to amuse myself somehow.

I sat down and looked around at the display of humanity all around me.

At first glance I thought I had mistakenly walked into an episode of "Hee-Haw", with all the extras waiting patiently for their turn on stage.

There was a woman sitting across from me who, when responding to her name being called, flashed a mouthful of gums and blackened enamel.

She's concerned about a cell phone?

She doesn't need digital service, she needs dentures.

What happened to the cell phone being a status symbol?

Gone are the days when a phone going off during a meeting showed just how important your time was, now people just scowl, or look away with an embarrassed expression.

Cell phones used to be cool, but they're now so commonplace.

I remember our first "cell phone."

I put quotations around it because it wasn't really a cell phone.

It was a car phone which was in my mothers van in the early 1990's.

Now...I call it a phone for the simple fact that when you dialed a number, it connected you to another person, whom you could then talk to.

All similarities between that an actual phone at that time ended there.

But it was a phone.

In our car.

We had a car phone, and no one else did.

Never you mind that it took three Ukrainian strongmen to carry the thing around, and a team of no less than seven scientists with Ph.D's in many unpronounceable fields to operate it.

But we had a car phone.

And now it's 2002, and I sit in the store, wondering who else had one, wondering who else cared as much as I did about it, wondering when the last time the man next to me had showered...

There is a very cute boy in the store.

He enters, signs in, and sits down across from me.

He starts surveying the room, and when his eyes meet mine, we share a moment of patrichian-ism.

"I know." my eyes say to him.

"Well, what can you do?" his respond.

A woman at the counter is irate because no one there speaks Spanish, and she doesn't speak any English. She reaches across the counter and picks up the stores land line, holding the reciever toward the associates face.

"Call!" she says.

"Now!" she demands, brandishing the handset high in the air like a southern preacher at a tent revival, beckoning God in Heaven to exorcise the demons of telecommunications.

Well, at least she wasn't thoroughly unprepared, I think to myself.

She's certainly brushed up on her imperatives.

The associate calmy tries to tell her that it's past closing time at their customer service number, so no one is there who can translate.

Though, since 1) he wasn't taking the handset from her, and 2) she didn't speak any further English, he might as well have said...

"Gleep glop fart wankle pimp sloppy bedpan frothy chocolate colon."

I believe it would have warranted the same response from her.

Telling this story to a friend of mine, he said,

"Well, she had a right to be upset, they should have had someone who could speak Spanish."


No they shouldn't.

Though I agree that it may be a good idea in this area to have bilingual employees, under no circumstances at all should there ever be a requirement to accomodate someone because they don't speak the language of the place where they're living.

Which just fries my ass.

And, I'm sure I'm going to get flamed for this, but whatever...What I hate the most, and not that I'm racist, or anything of the sort, but I know people will see it that way...What I hate the most is when there are hispanic people who go around expecting you to accomodate them in every way necessary because they won't speak English. And I know that there are other ethnic groups who do that too, but here in Central Florida, it's very often Spanish-speakers.

I have no idea how I got off on that little tangent, but...whew, I feel better now.

Apparently, off the West coast of Florida, there is some mysterious black blob looming off the coast. Scientists say that it's just a massive bloom of a rare type of algae, but I know better. I know that it's an alien civilization, one that's sat long dormant beneath the waves, waiting for the time to strike, and feed their slimy black bodies with human blood.

So, if for some reason I turn up missing, I want you all to avenge me.


Be well...


Your Host and Emcee...dizboy.

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