Cell Phone Use Has a Time and Place

We all know someone that cannot have a conversation on their cell phone without making sure that anyone in a two block radius can hear it. Not only is it annoying, but it shows poor manners. Budweiser even made a Real Men of Genius radio spot about the "Really Loud Cell Phone Talker Guy." The fact is, no one cares if you have a cell phone or people that want to talk to you on it. Take a hint when people glare at you in a crowded restaurant, and tone it down or turn off the phone until you leave.

Of course, these people cannot have a conversation worth overhearing on a cell phone. It's always a disgusting conversation about bowel movements or an episode of a reality television program. How about rattling off your credit card number, or what's on sale this week at Target if you want people's attention? Who, besides you, even cares who Flavor Flav eliminated this week. As a matter of fact, he ought to get down on his knees and thank God any sighted woman would be seen with him.

A red light is no place to be so enthralled in your cell phone gossip, that you forget you are behind the wheel of a car. We are all pointing and laughing as you start moving into the intersection before the light turns green, narrowly missing being side-swiped. Flavor Flav must have eliminated someone with a big chest this week. Your disbelief is obvious, yet not amusing.

No one in line behind you at the grocery store wants to wait for you to pay the cashier because your friend may have gotten an STD, and seeks your unofficial medical advice, because you are a receptionist at a free clinic. Spare us the pain of having to hear about her gynecological woes, and just pay already. If you write a check after making us wait 20 minutes to say "hold on, girl, I need to pay for my stuff" we will all follow you home, and discuss our menstrual cycles over dinner.

I don't pay $9 to go to the movies so that I can hear you giving your friend a play-by-play on the phone, because they couldn't get off the couch to see it with you. Wait until you get home, and then call them with all the details, that they can save their $9. Chances are they didn't come to the movies with you, because you'd talk all the way through it, anyway. Even your friend finds you annoying.

The least you could do is turn the phone off in church. I'll bet your phone shows missed calls and has voicemail. Better yet, keep it on, you're headed straight to hell wearing gasoline underwear anway.

Put your cell phone on vibrate at work. The last thing anyone around you wants to hear is your poor choice of music blaring from your cell phone. If I want to hear Justin Timberlake wailing like a school girl all day long, I'd buy his crap CDs myself. Truth be told, you sit as the lone Justin Timberlake fan, amongst a room of people with decent taste in music.

You look like a jackass walking through Wal-Mart with your Bluetooth headset clipped on your ear. First of all, the probability that anyone is actually talking to you is slim. And once again, no one wants to hear your idle rambling as we browse and shop. It's probably a clever disguise for multiple personality disorder. Can person #2 come out to play?

You have on a nylon sweat suit from 1989 and a fanny pack, so why are you answering your cell phone (as loudly as possible) in an official, businesslike manner? Yes, all of us from ladies apparel to sporting goods, can hear you telling your "client" what wise investment choice to make. If they could see how you dress, they would know you don't have an impressive portfolio, and they may as well ask their dog to bark once for stocks and twice for real estate.

Your baby doesn't know what the hell you're talking about, and you're apparently oblivious to that. Why must we all suffer? A two month old doesn't associate his latest diaper masterpiece with "ooshy-gooshy" so why does the public have to suffer with you forcing the babysitter to put the tike on the phone so you can commend his stinky accomplishment at such a high decibel level? Trust me, as a mother, I know for a fact there will be a big smelly mess for you when you get home. Babies don't just soil themselves when you leave. Perhaps I can come over after you get home and blow party whistles for you when your fiber supplement kicks in?

You, sir, probably spend more time in the bathroom than the wife does, otherwise there wouldn't be three decades of Playboy under the sink - so why must you have your cell phone on speakerphone to find out what brand of tampons she uses? Have you never seen the box? It's not rocket science. By the time I have left feminine hygiene, I not only know what brand your wife uses, but I also know she has a yeast infection, your teenage daughter smokes reefer, and your toddler eats his own snot. Remind me to thank you later, while I am in line behind you at the check out, waiting on you to pull 20 crumpled coupons from your jeans pocket, half of which won't be for the correct product, anyway.

Watching people scream into their cell phones is like watching a wino crap his pants - you don't want to stare, but you can't help it.