Third Anniversary Special/2002

Cell Phones and Eaves-Dropping, or How A Random Woman Thought I Was a Real Reporter

I do not think that I will surprise anyone with this announcement, but I'm gonna say it anyway: cell phones allow Americans to share vast amounts of undesired information with the public. Many people, well aware of this phenomenon, speak softly, or with their backs turned to others. Still there are some with very little consideration for the outside world, who banter in normal tones on subways, on busses, or where-have-you.

As a new cell phone owner, I am still learning cell phone etiquette. I do not know my way around in public just yet because until now I have walked among you almost silently. I have found one nice place to talk on my phone outside my office, however. It is on a small set of steps leading to a door that never opens between a mail box and a row of newspaper boxes. For the most part, people walk on this side of the street rather quickly because there are no shops or restaurants at which to gawk. I sit there every day and carry on my private phone conversations - that is, until now.

The other day, as I sat on my steps talking to Godzilla about and article I was going to write with Bigfoot about the lotto when a ding-ee broad walked passed me. She must have heard a small part of the conversation and became interested. She stood five or six feet away from me, eaves-dropping on my yapping to Godzilla. I remember talking about how much I like Mountain Dew and the rush I got from drinking it. I talked about getting 'zooted' and 'juiced' on the Dew in the morning before work.

After a few minutes of my vulgar tirade, she bent over and waved at me. I stopped yapping and she asked me a question: "Are you a reporter writing an article about the lottery?"

Unfortunately, I was too much of an idiot to say something good. I only said "No". I am an idiot for not saying "Yes." (Seriously, that would have been a much better article than this one.) What kind of moron is she for listening to me yap on about getting high off Mountain Dew for five minutes and still thinking that I was a reporter? Ding-ee broad!

Now I try to keep an eye out for lonely old women walking the street. If I see that nosy old broad again, I am going to trip her.