Epiphany: A Divine Manifestation

Back in May I decided my life needed a little more spice to it. I began looking into buying a motorcycle. My dad called it "the stupidest idea he'd ever heard". Thats when I knew I had to do it. I bought myself a nice little gem of a starter bike to learn the ropes on, in the hopes of buying a sweet Harley sometime soon. For several months she went unnamed. I tried to force the name by looking up ideaa on the internet. Wisely, I consulted my motorcycle guru, Miss Jordan Rasband & took her advice. "Don't force it. It will come, just give it time." This is that story...

There are certain moments in history that you never forget where you were when you heard the news. I remember being at South Hill Middle School, roaming around the halls when I heard the news about 9/11. I remember reffing Jr. Jazz when the Space Shuttle Columbia crashed over Texas. I remember sitting in a hotel room in Mexico when the US invaded Iraq. I remember being in my basement when John Stockton hit "the shot" against Houston in '96. Recently, I remember being in Target when I heard the news that the late-great-King of Pop, Michael Jackson had died. I've been a fan of Michael Jackson ever since I first heard him. It was Smooth Criminal in my friend, Ted Ethington's basement in elementary school. Although I was a fan, it was casual at best. I had several of his CD's and a playlist on my iPod, but nothing too major. My King of Pop 'fanhood', if you will, was taken up a notch one special night after watching his live DANGEROUS concert in Bucharest (pure awesomeness & the work of a true genius). After leaving the company of Chelsee, I was riding around my nameless bike singing Michael Jackson tunes at the top of my lungs. (The sign of a true fan) Luckily I was wearing my helmet so no one was forced to run me off the road to save the world from my tone-deaf vocals. It was in the midst of singing one of my all-time favorites, that it hit me...

My motorcycle was Diana. Just as in the song, "Dirty Diana", I had told myself she wouldn't seduce me, but she did. It was as if she had spoken to me and whispered "I have the stuff that you want, I am the thing that you need." She was my "night lovin' thing" that "thing I could taunt." So I named my motorcycle Dirty Diana. It suits her well. We both know it wont last forever. She fulfills my needs and I rev her engine. She is my Dirty Diana. It may just be a summer fling until I move on to something better, but you never forget your first.

For your viewing pleasure...and this is required.

OMG ROLFLMAO LOL makes me (sad face)

The origins of texting are somewhat obscure. NASA claims they sent the first text message in 1989, using a simple pager and upside down numbers that could be read as words. Remember that from elementary? Spelling "Boobs" or "hello"? Same kind of thing...

However, Nokia asserts they sent the first text message from a cell phone in 1993. In 1995, the average customer sent .4 texts per month. Today kids send that many per second, literally.

In my blog research, (Yes, I do research) I stumbled across this little nugget of a story. You can read it if you want, but I'll summarize: In one month a girl sent 14,528 text messages. The text message portion of her bill was 440 pages long. This equates to 484 text messages a day or one text every two minutes of every waking hour. Luckily she had unlimited texting, if not, her bill would've been in the neighborhood of $3,000.

I got my first cell phone when I was in 7th grade. Not very many students had cell phones back then and I probably had like 10 minutes a month. Texting wasn't big in my middle school. We had the option but it cost $.25 or something every text you sent or received. The only reasonable text you could send would be "Mom, the house burned down. Everything is gone. I'm sending this with my one remaining digit as I'm being rushed to the hospital." Anything other than that was unheard of and a waste of money. I don't even remember it being very big my sophomore year...but by my senior year it was multiplying like a bunch of rabbits. Today the average person sends about 200 texts per month. Obviously this is somewhat skewed by that girl texting her fingers raw...but then again my dad sends a grand total of 0 texts per month. In the interest of full disclosure, I average about 2,500 texts per month.

I bring all this up because of a text I received the other day. As embarrassed as I am to admit I actually associate with people like this, this is what it said: "Hw l8 u gna b up 2nit? We gta tlk." If I had anything in my stomach at the time, I'm sure I would've lost it. There is no place in the world for things like that. I was sickened... People that are fortunate enough to frequently text me know that I don't partake of the texting slang and abbreviations. I use appropriate capital letters, punctuation and grammar. Sure it may take me a little bit longer, but at least I don't look stupid. Honestly, I didn't know what ROFL meant until I finally looked it up the other day. Show some class out there folks.

Also, another small text messaging rant. There is never a reason for someone with a Y chromosome to use LOL...never...ever...ever. I instantly lose respect for guys that use it. And I doubt you're literally laughing out loud. Just stop doing it.

Onwards and Upwards...