On the iPhone

It’s friggin sweet.

My mother decreed that this year, due to the horrific economy, we would not exchange gifts, thus allowing my brothers and sisters to dote unfettered on their spouses and their millions of children and leaving me to dote on…um, me. Not having to do gifts was the best gift of all. I did not have to fight the mall, or spend 1,000 hours trying to make the wrapping be Martha-perfect, or fret over guessing the pant size of my teenage nieces. I was saved so much time that I was able to dedicate three whole days to making five pans of lasagna from scratch (among other dishes) to gift to my family as a meal on Christmas day. It was simply the best adult Christmas I have ever had.

Then, on the 26th, I took my not-having-to-do-presents-savings and went to Best Buy.

It’s a black, 3G, 16 gig miracle. There is nothing it cannot do. It tells me the time in Seoul, Korea. It reminds me of every upcoming appointment I have. I can bypass the web sense block at work and facebook from my phone. It suggests where I should go out to eat, what music I should listen to, and when I should respond to e-mails. There is one button I touch and my phone shouts, “WOOOO!” like a frat boy at a kegger. There is another that makes a range of diverse whoopee cushion noises. This may not seem useful, but I teach 7th grade. I am now the coolest teacher ever because I have a phone that farts.

Yet, for me in all my nerdy-dom, I love it mostly because I type my text messages on a QWERTY keyboard and they are automatically spell and grammar checked. And that is how I roll, homie.