Mobile SterilityBy Akshay Patil
Do you know anybody who looks like Constance Marie? (Also, how do you pronounce her last name? It looks like Mah-ree, but it could be Mah-ree-eh).
For those of you reading along at home, the subject for this e-mail is (and I quote) “No Kids Rapping or Ostriches.” That’s right. Rapping ostriches. No, it doesn’t make any sense. But somewhere out there, there’s an individual who is absolutely psyched (or at the very least, greatly amused) that I’m printing their random e-mail. I really don’t know what to say about this... other than I can only suspect that it’s “mah-ree,” since “mah-ree-ah” would imply that the name ended with an “a.” There, you excited yet? Whoa, down boy.
I don’t even know who Constance Marie is. If I had an Internet connection, I could look it up... but I don’t. Nope, I’m sitting in an airport terminal, waiting to board my red-eye flight, trying to be somewhat funny while I blearily stare at my computer screen.
You know, if my cell phone had blue-tooth or some other wonderful piece of technology in it, I’d be able to connect to the wonderful wasteland of weird we call the world wide web. Granted, it’d be slow as refrigerated molasses, but at least the ether would drip drip its way into my computer. But my cell phone doesn’t have any thing like that.
Nope. Just sits there and emits large quantities of radiation which makes me quite nervous since I keep it in my pocket and that’s dangerously close to, you know, certain areas of the male anatomy that guys tend to enjoy keeping in working order. I really wonder if people have done studies as to the effects of keeping your cell phone in your pocket... didn’t they show that cell phones caused brain cancer or something? What about all that time it spends next to... thingy? I mean, it can’t be good; just sitting there going, “here I am!” all the time to the cell phone tower and the cell phone tower replies, “great! Remember to send large quantities of radiation through some guy’s sensitive areas!” and the cell phone goes, “sweet! Not only am I a digital leash, but in another two years he won’t be able to have babies anymore!”
You think I’m kidding, but its the truth... cell phones are evil like that. Not only does my cell phone try to destroy my virility, but it always insists that we’re in Germany. I swear. I turn it on and my phone friendly greets me with a “why hello! Wow, it looks like we’re in Berlin! Well, I better change time zones to German time, since we’re obviously in Germany, despite the utter lack of Lederhosen.” And then it starts talking extra loud to the cell phone tower in German, I think.
I’m not quite sure what it does... all I know is that it does it through my crotch and I’m paying for it. Maybe the phone does this because it’s a Siemens (I dare you to read that word out loud) phone and it misses home or something. All I’m saying is, does it really have to take it out on my manhood?
Maybe my front-pocket isn’t the best place to keep it, but where else am I supposed to keep it? My back pocket? If I put it there, I’ll probably get ass cancer. Well, I guess that’d be better than my current future, but I’m guessing ass cancer probably isn’t a walk down candy lane either. With my present situation, I wouldn’t be able to make babies, but at least I’d be able to sit down.
I guess I’ll just have to move it to my purse. Man, that’ll be a pain, I barely have enough room in there for my makeup, eyeliner, lip gloss, tamp... err. Yeah.
People still just don’t seem to believe that I really do get the e-mails I publish. I don’t know what more I can do to convince y’all that I don’t have the creativity to manufacture these things and to impress upon you, the reader, the fact that I depend on your e-mails for sustenance. Without your e-mails to email@example.com, my body would go into withdrawal and I would probably die... or turn into a guinea pig. The kind of guinea pig that pees when you terrify it by doing scary things like look at it, or vaguely in its general direction. And then instead of this wonderful grey box of “Positive Sinking,” you’d open up The Tech to find a big damp spot in the Features section. Oh well, it’d probably mark an improvement in column quality.