I'm that chick who didn't get a cell phone until she was 24 because she didn't see any real use for it. I mean, why would I need a phone for when I'm out of the house? There are pay phones, and no one wants to talk to me anyway. And then text messaging changed my world. I could pass notes to the other kids while I was in class -- I mean, at work -- and never have to talk to people over the phone again.
Devon has dragged me further into the darkness with the G1. I had been texting with my freebie Verizon phone just fine. I was perfectly content hitting the button three times for each letter. It was fun, even. Tap tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. Like Morse code, only less desperate.
But now I have the magic of flipping back and forth between The New York Times and an IM conversation with Donna about something so fabulous and profound it would blow your mind if I told you. Really, don't ask.
Or I can play Hangman, which seems like a really barbaric game, now that I think about it. "See this dude? We are totally gonna hang him by the neck until he's dead, dead, dead if you can't figure out _ _ E H A _ _.
I played this all the time in school. No wonder kids are fucked up.