I’ve always had an ambivalent relationship with cell phones. I understand that they can be very useful in emergencies, but they’re incredibly annoying. Today provided a wonderful example of just how annoying they can be.
I was in the parking lot at the grocery store when my cell phone chimed. Thinking it might be something important, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and found a text message was waiting for me. Pulling up the “messages” menu, I found a new message listed from a number I did not recognize.
I opened it, and here is what it said:
“I’m not done with the conversation. Yeah you are immiture [sic] for talking shit on [sic] my best friend, and i’m [sic] the last person you wanna talk to funny [sic]. and [sic] your cousin [sic]”
I laughed out loud in the parking lot.
One minute later, the phone chimed again. There was another new message, from the same unidentified bard of angry wrong number texting as before:
“wants [sic] to beat isa’s [sic] ass, [sic] let her try. You’re pathetic and i [sic] hear you talk shit on [sic] my friend again, [sic] trust me [sic] you’ll regret it.”
I was actually sort of impressed that despite this person’s sizable grammatical shortcomings, s/he was able to use “you’re” in proper context.
Another minute, another chirp from my phone. This time, the message was:
“wants [sic] to beat isa’s [sic] ass, [sic] let her try. You’re pathetic and i [sic] hear you talk shit on [sic] my friend again, [sic] trust me [sic] you’ll regret it.”
Maybe this was repeated for emphasis, or maybe the texter in question did not know how to operate his/her phone.
At this point, I figured it was time to do something. I was getting an annoying (but still unintentionally funny) wrong number text each minute, so I sent the message “wrong number,” in response.
FYI, I have only sent a handful of text messages in my lifetime. Every one of them has consisted of the words “wrong number.”
I figured that would take care of the problem, but about thirty seconds after that, I received the following message from the same brain-dead messenger:
“what?”
After that, the messages finally stopped. The whole experience was [sic].
and your cousin
A Tale Told by an Idiot 