That’s the longest phrase I’ve ever been able to make with those triple-letter acronyms. I never use them in real life. I’ve never given in to emoticons, either, which has caused a number of misunderstandings over the years when I’ve sent sarcastic texts that weren’t backed up with a wink or a smile. Fuck it, I’d rather take the flack. I just can’t do them. They are too twee, too saccharine, too Disney. I don’t mind a few Xs after a message to my female friends, but no smiles or winks. The only emoticon I would conceivably use is the one for ‘fuck you,’ which according to the humoristic Encyclopedia Drammatica is something I don’t even know how to make with symbols from my keyboard, much less with my Blackberry. Either it’s not too popular, or the sugar plum fairies who invented emoticons just don’t want you to send such filthy symbols.
The phone call is dying, according to a piece in the Times over the weekend. Awwww. As you can no doubt tell from this blog, I like to talk. I am loquacious to the point of logorrhea. I shall miss the phone, but I realize I already do. Gone are the days when I could spend literally hours gassing about anything on the phone with a friend, watching TV on the phone with a friend, nodding off on the phone with a friend. And I don’t just mean when I was a neurotic teenager trying to work out this terror-ific thing called life. Well into my twenties I could churn out some seriously meaningless verbiage down the horn.