B
lackberry? iPhone? Sidekick? What’s your drug of choice? Me personally, I’m hooked on CRACKBERRY. It’s more than my personal assistant, it’s like a close friend. I back up my files on my laptop and desktop computers. I don’t care if it’s lost or stolen, because I’ll just buy a new one and upload my 2,500 contacts, memos, calendar appointments, text messages, and emails to the new crackberry. If you lose your phone and can’t get your contacts back, it’s like a relative died and you mourn for your information. When someone gets ahold of your phone and reads your text messages or emails, I don’t have to tell you how fucked up that can be. Nowadays we’re all having text sex (it’s the new phone sex. U ain’t know?), talking about people we don’t like, hooking up secret dates, business deals, forwarding info and all kinds of other shit like email blasts, party invites, chain letters... the list is endless. If you’re in love, maybe the very last thing you do before you go to bed is check your phone for whatever reason. As soon as you wake up, you roll over, check your phone again and then you say good morning to the one you love. Texting has taken over our lives. People walk around with their heads pointed to the ground and their thumbs hitting the keys as fast as possible. We carry on multiple “conversations” at a time. Some of us even insist on using instant messenger or blackberry messenger so we can get the texts as soon as they’re typed. And texting while driving is worse than drunk driving. I’ve been at dinner tables with eight people, and everybody’s texting at the same time. I try to put my crackberry away at times like that, but important messages just keep coming through so I HAVE to reply. For a real player like me, this shit is amazing. I can bust a nut and text my other woman with no problems. Who remembers having a beeper back before cell phones were popular, or even before beepers made it to the ‘hood? You would check your beeper and then stop at a phone booth to call somebody back. Or, if you didn’t have a beeper, you’d have to be at home by the phone so people could find you. Pimpin’ is so hi-tech these days, instead of pulling your Caddy over to the curb and saying, “Bitch, where the fuck you been all day?!” now you can just call her and say, “Bitch, where the fuck you at?!” Instant results! We get offended when certain people don’t answer our calls or texts. Not to mention, a lot of times, text messages and emails can be misunderstood. You send a sexy text and it reads back like a pervert sent it. You tell a joke and it reads back like an insult. Slang and abbreviated words aren’t always understood either, but we’re all still addicted to our personal communicating devices. M’fuckas like me will reply to your texts before we will answer your calls. If I give my number out, I always tell people, “Text me. Don’t call me, because I won’t answer.” It’s true. If texting was an Olympic sport, I would be a gold medalist. I’m on my crackberry right now and even though you’re reading this, you’re probably on yours too so I’ll holla at you later. Go ahead and reply, Biiiiiiiiitch!!!! // Hit me up on my crackberry at ShortStories@ozonemag.com
10 // OZONE WEST
“TEXTING HAS TAKEN OVER OUR LIVES. BLACKBERRY? IPHONE? SIDEKICK? WHAT’S YOUR DRUG OF CHOICE?”