august 4, 2008:
a cell phone is an extremely personal thing. Theres the obvious personal information: phone numbers, photos, texts. And in the age of the personal digital assitant: dates, appointments, music, notes. Things that we would be distraught without, and likely embarrassed for aquaintences to find. Not strangers, because who cares what strangers think, you dont even know them. And not friends, because friends already know you and have formed their opinions. But people who are on the verge, and whom you might be trying to impress.
But anyway, I'm not really thinking about that when I say it's "personal." What I mean is that you hold that thing up to your face and breathe on it all day. You touch it with your sticky fingers, probably spit on it to some degree, and in all ways get it all gross with your grossness. If youre my friend, then I probably love your grossness, and am not really even grossed out by it anymore. Thats what friendship's all about: loving each other's icky stuff.
But if I dont love you, if you're, say, a customer of mine... and not even a regular (im not talking about you, michael) but a person off the street, whom I've not met... don't ask me to use your cell phone. "Here, you talk to her." hell no! Thats revolting and insulting.
Ick ick ick.
Oy. So this is your friend neighborhood etiquette police, asking you to please not do this to strangers. Unless you would rub your cheek against said stranger and accept them spitting on you. Which, you know, if thats your thing... then stay the hell away from my phone.
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