. . . and i thought BFD stood for . . . well, never mind 😉 hey!!! i found you!! i’ll be back to muse a bit. hugs.
“and i thought BFD stood for . . .”
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the other part of the phone thing (i can say this with a bit of smug superiority, having just cancelled my cell phone contract in ongoing effort to simplify, simplify, simplify this crazy life) is the folks who yammer on them in stores, parking lots, theaters, at the gym, for cryin’ out loud, on the freakin’ treadmill. what’s so important that you can’t take 30 minutes out of your life? it makes me feel aggressive . . .
1. The fella with a cell phone jammed up against his ear walks in to the men’s restroom, conversing with someone on the other end. While still conversing, he walks up to the urinal, unzips, does his business, flushes, and walks out of the rest room.
2. The woman pulls up in her car and parks at the pet cemetary, all the while with a phone jammed in her ear, yammering away. She sits in the car for something live 5-10 minutes, yammering away. The woman gets out of the car, still yammering and removes some material from the trunk of the car. Walks in to the cemetary, still yammering. Goes up to a pet’s grave and does some tidying up for about 10 minutes, still yammering. Walks out of the cemetary, gets in the car and drives off, still yammering on the same damn phone call.
3. The ten year old girl is riding her bike home from school, pedaling in the cross walk through an intersecton with a green light, one hand on the handle bar, the other hand holding a phone jammed up against her ear.
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