Thursday, January 21, 2010

It's a Man Thing

You know, technology is a beautiful thing. It cures diseases, lets you talk to someone around the world instantaneously, and keeps family ties strong. This last bit is the main reason why my grandpa got a cell phone for Christmas this year. When he opened that little box his smiled fell off his face like an acorn, fast and without hope of returning. The room went quiet. He looked up and eyed each one of his children closely. When his gaze fell on my father, my grandpa’s eyes went to slip and his tongue lashed out. “The fuck is this Charlie?” My dad cracked a smile and said, “An iPhone.” My grandfather scratched his chin. “This one of them fairy Macintosh thingies?” My cousins and I lost it. We rolled on the floor laughing. “Yup.” My dad said. And then we moved. Grandpa hemmed and hawed all through dinner and into the night. My uncle, and my two aunts kept trying over and over to explain what a cell is and, according to my aunt Patty, “all of the marvelous things it can do.” He still wasn’t buying it. In fact, he tried to leave it at my house by putting it in the freezer. Crafty bastard. If my foodie cousin Larry hadn’t tried to steal some extra ice cream cake then I would have gotten it. Fat bastard told my dad and my dad pulled his father aside. He put his arm around grandpa’s back and walked into the other room.

I couldn’t really make out what was being said for the first few moments but then suddenly my grandpa perked up. “You mean I don’t ever have to talk to you mother again? I can “text message” her instead?” My dad chuckled. “Yes, you might not ever have to talk to anyone on the phone again.” There was a dramatic pause in the room. Silence. Then something happened. My grandfather looked up at my dad, look him right in the eye and said. “I love you son.” Then he hugged him. It was one of the sweetest things I’d ever seen that crotchety old bastard ever do. Then he looked down at his phone and started typing a message to my grandma. His perpetual frown turned upside down and he cackled as he hit the send button.

My grandma yelled from the other room. “NO Robert! I will not make you a sandwich when we get home!” I heard him mutter “bitch” before going to sit by her side.

After that night, my grandfather went nowhere without his iPhone. I’m surprised he didn’t have it surgically attached. Up until this point I could’ve sworn he was a neo-luddite. Moral of the story, while I was playing around on my grandpa’s iPhone, a text message popped up from my dad. Apparently the walls in my house are nowhere near as thick as I thought they were.

It read:

(765): Now I know how you felt every time you had to listen to me have sex with a girl... mildly disgusted yet marginally proud.

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