Texts gone wild

I’m not a texter, which puts me in the vast minority according to the latest numbers. And that’s just fine with me. I never warmed up to typing someone in real time and asking them how they’re doing when it seemed a breach of etiquette not to simply pick up the phone.

I know, I know . . there are many reasons why texting is preferable to the sound of someone’s voice. I’m not judging the texters, actually. I’m explaining my anal retentive ways. I’m too regimented for convenience.

I don’t know much about textology . . the nuances of the pseudo sport . . those times when it makes more sense to text than to talk.

But I do have a short list of things you should never text.

medical emergencies . . . work schedules . . . that your hair is on fire . . . arguments . . . criticisms . . . breakups . . . bomb threats . . . medical results . . . gossip . . . tax returns . . . body parts . . . secrets . . .that sex dream with Larry King . . . your plot to assassinate Snooki . . . show spoilers . . . dirty jokes . . . chain letters . . .passages from James Joyce . . . favorite sexual positions . . . least favorite sexual positions . . . pin numbers . . . pregnancy results . . . that you’re driving drunk . . . that you’re driving drunk after leaving my place

Now back to my regularly scheduled programming.

 

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