So the Mayans knew that something seismic would happen sometime around this date, thousands of years ago, they thought, perhaps that it would be the catastrophic end of our world here on planet earth. They were close, but no cigar. As it turns out something just about as rare just happened right here in little old Iowa, USA….yours truly just got a smart phone. That’s right…a dang-gum old pocket sized computer that does so many things that somehow, someway I managed to live for so long without one is a mystery to so many around me (honestly speaking I think that they’re amazed that I’m still around regardless of a cell phone or smart phone being tethered to me).
Anywho…my bride has thought for some time that I needed a cell phone, but since I can barely walk ten paces at work without being close to a landline, or the same at home, I didn’t feel the need to purchase said technology. That changed this winter as I was traipsing around the county officiating basketball games and such. It won’t hurt to be able to check my personal e-mails while at work on my new best friend either (on coffee break no less).
My phone of choice is a brand spanking new IPhone 5. My loving wife allowed me to have it. She makes all the major decisions in my life. (Note to self…don’t write blog and leave it up so Connie can write nonsense in it). But seriously…an IPhone 5. Our daughters are up in arms about me (Caveman Ripley; Old Man; Richard McFartsalot) having something so technologically advanced when they don’t (sucks not to have a full-time job, heh?).
I’ll now be able to receive at a moment’s notice: Ole and Lena jokes from my brother Brian (chuckle…that Ole…when will he learn?); or I’ll be able to text ‘knock knock jokes’ to my cousin Doug as he’s combining beans this fall (so serious my cousin Doug…note to self…forward Ole and Lena jokes to Doug). Or text message my bride as to my whereabouts this summer as I umpire baseball games “at lowe park, diamond 5, so hot, coaches angry, parents bitching, bugs terrible. Have a nice night, love, R” Or probably the best thing…having Siri as my new BFF (Siri tells you answers to your questions…for the uninformed). For instance, I foresee the following exchanges:
Me: Siri…do these slacks make my ass look big?”
Siri: (pause)…the capital of Nebraska is Lincoln.
Me: Siri…your answer didn’t make sense.
Siri: Neither does a man your age wearing checkered polyester slacks. Just sayin’.
Me: Siri…what am I hungry for tonight?
Siri: A man your age should have a lettuce salad drizzled in a light raspberry vinaigrette.
Me: WRONG AGAIN SIRI!!
Siri: How are those slacks fitting Mister Ripley?
I’d love to stay and talk about all of the wonderful things that I’ll be able to do, and interesting folks that I’ll meet and just how wildly popular that I’ll be now that I possess a smart phone, but I have laundry to do and more baseball rules to memorize….apparently Apple doesn’t make a facemask for Siri or I’d use her to call the tough ones “Sorry coach…but Siri said that the batter wasn’t properly reported to me so his walk-off homerun doesn’t count, but counts instead as the third out since he was an illegal batter….and she thinks you’re a shade overweight.”