Call me sometime

Well I did it. I finally went out and bought a cell phone. Will someone please tell the people at Verizon that the last person on the planet not to have a cell phone has relented. Such a lovely shiny little object. Such a pretty little color screen. Over 1,000 different ringtones. Dozens and dozens of options. Games, weather, news. And I don't know how to use a single one of them. I had a hell of a time just trying to answer a call (my wife calling just to welcome me the the celluar age). Thank God I have a teenage daughter to set it up for me and give me a lesson on how to use the little bastard. I should have taken notes. Forget the manual. It's about the size of a half a piece of toast. A piece of toast with over 100 pages that is. It's supposed to be a pretty good phone. The only one better in this brand is a camera phone. Why I would want pictures of me talking on my cell phone I'll never know. Meanwhile my daughter has entered everyones phone number into my new shiny little object. Don't ask me how to retrive them. Don't know, don't care. I don't even like talking on the phone. If I do need to call you then trust me I've written your number down in my little address book. It's in my back pocket always. I may be the last to actually carry a small address book and a little note book with me all the time. I also carry a pen to write with just in case. Crap there goes that hideous tone that's supposed to be a ringtone. I think it's suppose to be a Backstreet Boys song (probably a joke courtesy of my daughter).