I'm ready to be assimilated. And by that I mean I think I want a Bluetooth. You've seen them... the God-awful metal phone protrusions hanging from people's ears that make them look like they've been assimilated by the Borg from Star Trek. I think they're ugly, pretentious, and overused... I must have one.
I was talking to my friend Trisha on my cell this afternoon and trying to type at the same time. I had the 90 degree head lilt going, holding the phone between chin and shoulder and could feel neck spasms building as I did so. I mentioned my desire for the Bluetooth to Trisha.
"Oh my God," said my oh-so-subtle friend. "Please. Those things are the the fanny pack of the cell phone world."
I see her point. You start off using it for one or two calls at home, vowing never to become one of those people surrounded in an air of self-righteousness as they hold fascinating conversations standing next to you in line at CVS, chatting about what an ass Phil is at the office, how they blew their diet this week, how exciting it was to get their Toyota Hybrid up to 60 mph this weekend, and finally circling back to poor Phil to reiterate yet again what a complete and utter ass he is. (I don't even know poor Phil and I'm inclined to like him more than the person standing next to me in line, disparaging him.)
I'd start off just using it in the house and then maybe just once in awhile at Panera. For work. Soon I'll be standing in line for more coffee, chatting into thin air about how I'm about to blow my diet with a cookie, car repairs that are coming due soon on the Lexus, and what an ass Trisha is because she thinks Bluetooths are only for fanny-packin' losers.
Beam me up, Scotty.