That was way harsh LLG

Oh lawdy lawd, have I been behind on blogging. I have so much to catch you guys up on!

Like for one, a friend got married for a second time, two more had babies, another found out she's pregnant, and I well…I bought some cute shoes (like probably 5-7 pairs since my last post), worked long hours, and, like I do every time I split a seam on a dress I used to be able to wear seamlessly, I started a “lifestyle change” where basically, I try not to eat a bunch of crap and instead of wishing I had the energy to go to the gym, I actually force myself to go.

Turns out that’s a lot harder than I thought and it’s way more cost effective to eat free food at work, even if it’s pizza, and more fun to play Wii Fit Plus with your roommates than to actually leave the house in the bitter cold and hoof it to the gym. It's too bad both of these things are much less effective in actually dropping any weight!

Anyway, this post isn’t really about how all my friends are making me feel like I’m behind on life or how the word “muffin top” is beginning to take on a terrifying meaning. This post is ACTUALLY about how my blackberry has been ruining my love life for the past 2+ years—unbeknownst to me.

“That’s ridiculous!” you may be shouting at the screen. But if you’re like me, and weird stuff happens to you all the time, my upcoming story won’t be that much of a surprise to you.

STORY:

So, I’m in the T-mobile store giving the svelte MyTouch 4G back in exchange for a phone that actually works and there’s a little Latina girl, who we'll call LLG for the rest of this post, sitting to my right and checking out some touch phones. We’re doing that side-listening thing where you act like you're not really paying attention, but both of you know you're each totally as engulfed in the other’s conversation with her sales guy as you are your own. So then I start my old lady complaining about how every email I sent was full of typos because the touch screen was too small, and that my phone died before 5pm every day, and how I just needed a phone that was reliable and if it was pretty and white, like the MyTouch I was giving back, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, etc, etc, etc…

I stop complaining while he’s showing me the new features on my blackberry that my old one didn’t have, and little Latina girl gets up to leave, but not before saying to her sales guy, “I would NEVER buy a blackberry.”

SALES GUY: Why's that?

LLG: I never want to be that type of woman.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to act like I’m not listening even though this is obviously directed at me.

SALES GUY: What kind of woman is that?

So I tell my sales guy to hold and say to the little Latina girl, “Whoa, I’m a blackberry girl and I’d LOVE to hear this.”

LLG: Looks straight at me, “Maybe you’re the exception, but all the women I know with blackberries aren’t married and have NEVER BEEN IN LOVE. All they do is work, and check their EMAILS (she seriously had an extra snotty tone of the word "emails") and wear their business suits.”

I know blogs are the perfect forum for exaggeration, but I swear I’m quoting her directly.

LLG: Then she twisted the knife with “I never want to be one of those women.”

ME: I’m in love and I have a blackberry!

LLG: Did you get it before you fell in love? Or after?

ME: ……………………….After

LLG: EXACTLY.

And then, she left! And my sales guy, I guess trying to make me feel better, said, “I know lots of women with blackberries who are married.”

Moral of this story? Beware ladies, because according to LLG, the type of phone you have can totally make or break whether you find a husband.

And for the record, I don’t have a husband yet, but I also don't own a business suit, so I think those two things cancel each other out.