Phone Stack

Internet Stuff Post
If you live alone, and are tired of most of television, although I am now thinking of getting the Brazilian Booty Butt Lift DVD to tighten and tone up, and so between reading and homework you surf the internet looking for something to keep the mind stimulated, you stumble over things. This is one such thing.



I found this online and really can't wait to play a round of this some folks I know. Although considering my neighborhood I'll probably be picking up checks like a chocolate candy because every time my phone chirps (yes, I've turned the sound on now) my stomach lurches just a little bit. But then maybe one of you out there can get a free meal or three out of it.

From the inventor : The initial purpose of the game was to get everyone off the phones free from twitter/fb/texting and to encourage conversations.

Rules:

1) The game starts after everyone has ordered.

2) Everybody places their phone on the table face down.

3) The first person to flip over their phone loses the game.

4) Loser of the game pays for the check for the whole table.

5) If the bill comes before anyone has flipped over their phone everybody is declared a winner and pays for their own meal.

Note the context of rule #3. The reason for turning the phone over doesn't matter, and since the phone is face down you can't look at the number and make the decision not to answer it. This gives rise to the simple concept that unless you're a doctor on call, that ringing phone shouldn't take precedence over people sitting there. (Special ringtones were not considered in this calculation)

Barkeep, a round for my friends. Except that one on phone. Yeah, we can ALL see the bluetooth!

The Dumbing of America

A few months ago I was without my keys or my cell phone via circumstances too convoluted to go into here. I was then that I realized I was significantly dumber than I was four years ago. I realized that at that moment I only KNEW two phone numbers other than my own. My mothers and a single friend of mines.

There was a time that I knew fifteen or twenty numbers by heart. Someone would ask and I could rattle one them off without thinking about it. Now with a need to call someone for assistance, I was befuddled. Bedeviled. Bestupided.

This only occured to me again recently when as I stood outside Party B trying to figure out how to the get Party C, the person I was trying to get directions from told me that although they had been to the place before, they did not know how to get there. "I just put the address in my GPS" was the memorable statement in the explanation. I realized that now people didn't need directions, just the address and trust whatever spit back out of the machine. Isn't this a fine kettle of fish. So now we've not only forgotten phone numbers, we've forgotten how to get places.

I suddenly want to give a party that only has directions, no address. And when you get to the yellow house, you'll be there.

I understand modern conveniences, I myself just bought a blackberry. (It's great too, you should get one) But I didn't turn on the GPS function. So there. And true back when I could remember phone numbers I didn't have a cell...which lead to me getting cell phone calls on other peoples phones. Which is funnier than you think, since it meant they assumed I was with that person, but they didn't want to talk to them.

I'm now trying to figure out what we can forget next so I can invent a machine that does it and make a fortune. Phone numbers have been done, we stopped doing math when we got calculators, and now getting places. Maybe I could re-invent meals in a bag and when people as what's in it the eater won't know - just say it's good. Wait, they call that a restaurant. I'll think of something...just you wait.

Barkeep...lemme have a...no, I have to tell you what to put in the glass.

The FAMU-TSU Atlanta Classic - Day Minus 1

Thursday...Dateline - The Hennesey Event.

What if you gave away free top shelf liquor, free gourmet food, and hot new entertainment and nobody came? It looked like it for a moment, when I bopped into the event and lo and behold it was nearly EMPTY. The little girls in sundresses were stopping me when I had a drink in hand to ask if I wanted another. The bartender was pouring the drinks so strong I had to ask her to lighten it up a bit. Okay it started at nine, which was little funny, and ended after midnight on a week night... but the kind of folks they invited were the kind that could call it in on Friday if need be.

Funny moment this cutie in a black lace dress makes eye contact with me for few seconds, I smile back and tell her that her man is very lucky...you should have seen this dress...and even as lean back this dread locked brother steps in. I'm not paying attention but I look back that way a few minutes he's got his celly out getting numbers...oh kay. I don't say anything, it's not my place, I don't even know her. But we make eye contact a few minutes later and apparently she felt she had to explain herself. She comes over and tells me it's not what I think. I assure her I have an open mind, and ask her the question I ask all women..."Are you happy?". Oddly she then asked me my sign. Maybe I should have asked her age.

From there with the crowd looking considerably better, after Chrisette Michele performed, I breezed over to Leopard Lounge.

And the girl told me it was $20 to get in if I didn't want to wait in line.

Pay money? To get in the Leopard on a Thursday? Or stand in a line? Are you fookaying kidding me? I had to go to work the next morning....actually, be on the track the next morning...so I demurred.

It feels good to be back in stride...

I skipped Shout (which I heard was horrible), the Grape (I didn't need to see everybody the first day), Noir (it was that or the Hennessy thang) and Verve (which I also understand was light, but it was Thursday..Friday is there night.)

Barkeep, get me some gin and tang...I'm feeling frisky.

The Ghost Orderer

In a rush as work was a piling up, I popped around the corner into Popeye's Chicken to grab a two piece and biscuit.

How black is that?

Anyway, I get in line and there are three people in front of me. But I'm wrong. I only see three people in line, but there are in reality nine. There were the three people actually there, and the six other people this "fat chick" ordered for that basically held up production. I hate that, I mean I took the time to come down here and place my order, doesn't that deserve a little respect?

I have the same issue with cell phones on dates. I explain it like this: I get dressed, burn up gas and choose a nice spot. Pay for drinks, an appetizer, two entrees and dessert. I've given you my undivided attention to learn who you are and what you're all about....and if the phone rings you want to spend twenty minutes talking to some dude in his draws on his couch half watching ESPN who would ask you to bring something if you were headed over that way instead of me. And you expect another date?

Women who know this irritates me have been known to ask permission to answer their own phones when with me.

But back to my chicken. So at one point as the sole little chicken order assembly person puts together order after order - for one person - the rest of the orders back up. At one point there are twelve people waiting as this one lady gets her food. And I can see the tensions rising. Odd conversations started up between strangers. People who ordered before the chicken lady started to wonder why they weren't getting served first. I could feel revolution in the air.

I was about to suggest that this manager institute a two meal per person maximum. To write my state representative and offer the idea that a state law be passed to put in a bulk order lane. To call the president and not only have him pardon Ronald Isley but fix this growing "Chicken Inundation Situation". To start a grass roots movement to have the constitution amended to include speedy fried bird as the inalienable right of every man, woman and child in this great country!

Then I got my chicken and I was out. So like whatever.

Barkeep...you got sweet tea, right?