If I have to hear about one more peripheral friend, acquaintance or near stranger getting engaged or knocked up I’m going to be forced to watch I Hate my 30s (Ok, there’ll be no forcing—I DVRd the dull as a spork Scott Baio is 45…and Single out of pure free will). Milestones for me are very different. In fact I reached a huge one today (no, not the unbelievable 35—that’s next Wednesday) and I’m actually feeling kind of scared and sick to my stomach over it.
I bought a freaking cell phone. And one using all caps and a superfluous Z in its name. Eek (at least it was free). I never thought I’d give in and I can’t really pinpoint what inspired this because I still have no desire to talk on the phone at home, in public or anywhere else (though I’ll talk a mile a minute in person, I just don’t like the phone). Texting, maybe that's fun? Even the area code is grotesque and panic-inducing: 347? What the fuck is that? I remember when people use to spazz over 917, then 646.
Through my entire childhood I possessed a 666 phone number prefix (no, not in Kentucky) so nothing should faze me. I will learn to love it, just as I eventually do with all nuisances.