The flailing of the cellphone

I have a new cellphone. It’s white and red and oh so purdy. It’s my firstest ever walkman phone. I remember my first walkman. It was pink and not a phone at all. I listened to Alice Cooper on it. The other kids liked Bonnie Tyler and A-ha. They thought I was weird, even though I listened to A-ah too. I even had a George Michael poster from his funky-sunglasses-and-leather-jacket period on my wall and every now and then I would give it a little kiss. That was before my gaydar kicked in. Then again, who had proper gaydar in the 80s, anyways?

But I digress.

There is a certain chance that I may have been weird for other reasons, of course. I suppose I might still be slightly tinged with weirdness. But normalcy is so…boring. Who notices normal people, really?

What was I talking about?

Oh, right. My new phone. I had to stuff it full of music right away, of course, and test it. There’s a little, shiny button on the side of it and music starts playing when you push it. Then, if I hold the shiny in and move the phone upwards through the air, the volume gets louder. If I move it downwards, it gets lower. If I move it to the right, it plays the next track and if I move it to the left, it plays the previous track.

How’s that for fancy-pants?

The downside is that it doesn’t really respond well to subtle movements. These days, for instance, I can be seen waiting for the bus while flailing my phone like a madwoman. But like I said: nobody notices normal people.

Have a little something from my pink walkman days: