“Dude, it’s so ducking annoying.”
The full extent of the intended emotion was somehow lost on spell check.
“I heart astroturd.”
Never before has astroturf launched such ridiculous speculation.
“Call Bach!”
Another dispatch from Ridiculousness in Auto Correct.
Thus prompting the recipient to reply, “What should I call him?”
Eating Gourmet Three-Bean Chili Out of a Can
James checked his phone. It was 5:33 p.m. How ridiculous that he had to check his phone to learn the time, he thought. What happened to the days before everyone became so dependent on phones? Before accessibility was instant, before knowledge was immediate, before reaching someone was almost guaranteed. Almost. Maybe he would go back to those days. Institute a self-imposed technology ban, ditch his phone, his computer, run from wifi, hide from the cloud. Perhaps he’d forgo modern conveniences altogether; shun electricity, cook by fire (or by steamy radiator in his case), get back to nature, live off the land, as much as one could in the urban metropolis he called home. Yeah, that’d be great. Just one guy, sitting in an apartment, staring at the ceiling in the dark, eating gourmet three-bean chili out of a can. That would get him more chicks.
Speaking of chicks, where was this girl? Resisting the urge to pull out his phone and glance once more at the clock, he put his hands in his pockets and turned around to face the street. Heading south on Broadway he spotted a blue, double decker bus with the phrase “Eat shit, tourists” spray-painted on the side. Instinctively, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture.
“Awesome,” he muttered to himself.