Thursday, March 3, 2011

Rudey McRuderson in the house.

It has been brought to my attention recently that sometimes, I can be rude.

Rude!

Me!

I know. It's shocking.

I will not reveal to you who told me that I have a penchant for rudeness at times.

Because that would be rude.

But I am married to He Who Shall Not Be Named, and his name rhymes with Schmill. Or Pill. Or Hill.

He is my beloved.

Chew on that for a minute.

Anyway. Back to my purported rudeness.

The rudeness at which I scoff.

The "rudeness" that belongs in quotes.

All because of this.

Isn't she purty?

Yes, yes, I realize that most of you have been on the smartphone bandwagon for years now, but I am a late bloomer. I have tried using my husband's beloved Crackberry, but it just wasn't my thing. Being the loyal Verizon customer that I am, the iPhone was out of my reach. Unavailable for years. I held out. I waited. I pined. I coveted. Until Verizon announced the iPhone was coming.

Then, I pre-ordered.

And I waited.

I bought a pretty, pink, rubbery "skin" to protect her sensitive, newborn skin.

And I waited.

And waited.

Then, it arrived.

***cue chorus of heavenly angels***

I charged her up, installed all her software and set her up to my specifications.

My iPhone is all that and a bag of chips.

Not that I'm bragging.

That would be rude.

I'm just saying.

But now? I can access my email anywhere and everywhere.

And danged if I don't take advantage of it. Even last night, while we were at a restaurant with the kids. As we waited for our food to arrive, I pulled my phone out of my purse, pushed the button, slid the "unlock" bar with my finger, and ran my index finger down the smooth glass front as I checked my email.

Not that that's rude or anything.

Even though it is.

He Who Shall Not Be Named (HWSNBN) was all, "Um, Clare? Don't you think that's a little rude?"

"What?!? Rude?!?" I scoffed, "I'm just checking my email! I need to check my email! It's not like I'm checking Facebook or anything!"

HWSNBN put a tortilla chip in his mouth, crunched on it, and was all, "Yeah. Like I said. That's rude."

Rude.

Schmude.

Me?

Isn't it rude to call get all up in your wife's grill about checking her super-duper, very, ultra, mega, uber important emails? That she must check all the time? Now that they are at her fingertips?

Who's the rude one?

What's that? Am I saving lives?

Um, no.

Running a country?

Nope.

But my email. It must be checked.

Not sure why, it just does.

Lest I miss something important.

Important, y'all.

I can avoid Facebook and Twitter for long periods of time.

But the email.

I must check it.

Methinks I have a problem.

My daughter knows I have a problem.

I took the battery out of my old phone, and gave it to her to use as a toy. Yesterday, she said to me, "Look Mommy! I'm you!" as she slid her chubby little finger up and down the glass screen of her new toy phone.

Nice example, Mother of the Year.

Perhaps my behavior is rude.

I'll take it under consideration.

1 comment:

  1. You really are my long-lost sister, aren't you? Except that my weapon of choice is a crackberry. Po-tay-to, po-TAH-to. We are SO not rude, sista.

    And speaking of Weapon of Choice...I gave you an award (I'm sorry! I couldn't help it!) Check it out: http://thedesperatehousemommy.blogspot.com/2011/03/stylin.html

    ReplyDelete

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