Fuck you Cell phone. Fuck you lamppost.
But it wasn't fine with my friends: "Dude you need a cell phone..." "Why the fuck don't you have a cell phone?" "Get a cell phone, or I'll kick your bitchy little ass...punk [And then an arena audience would start chanting 'Guns and Cell Phones]"
So, finally, I caved. Not so much to reap the benefits of cell phone ownership, but moreso to avoid having to hear the constant whining of my friends.
And there I was. A mere 28 hours after buying my AT&T Cingular plan, walking around downtown at 1:30 in the morning after having spent most of the night at lovejoy's. I decided to call one of my buds...you know, to take one more step into the cellular world. I was looking down, typing in his number...
567-2... And I got punched. In the head. By a lamppost! I fell flat on my back and cry-laughed.
One day into my cell-phone ownership and I had already received a cell-phone related injury. I knew these things were of the devil. I knew owning one was going to cause more worry, trouble, and pain than it was worth.
So I spent the next two hours telling the story to my friends and blaming them for my head-injury...talking to them, as it were, via my cell phone.