So, Do You Like ... Stuff?

I never know where to put my cell phone when I’m walking around and stuff. Where am I supposed to put it? I am a man. Years ago I purchased, for my cell phone, a belt clip. This was nice because I could put my cell phone in it. Then I read on the Internet somewhere that belt clips for cell phones aren’t cool. Get a fanny pack, dorkface! I got rid of my belt clip, and by “got rid of” I mean I broke it in a way that was accidental and purely coincidental to my realization that belt clips aren’t cool. Perfect timing! Then I was like, “Maybe I can put it in my pocket!” So I put my cell phone in my pocket. Not my pocket with my keys, but my other pocket, with my Bert’s Bees lip balm. It fit, but it jutted out of my pants and stretched the fabric. “Is that a cell phone in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” is what someone said to me once. So I was like, “Are you implying that my penis is squared-shaped and flat and exists on my upper thigh? I am happy to see you, but I do not ha...

Note: This column appears in the 3/4 issue of The Glendale Star and the 3/5 issue of the Peoria Times I’m not much of a phone person in that generally, I don’t prefer to talk on the phone. I would say that I am in the mood to talk on the phone approximately twenty minutes throughout the course of a given calendar year. What an actual phone can do however, as far as texting and letting me know who is calling so that I don’t have to answer, which allows me to better avoid actual conversations, has been great and has, ironically, made me more of a phone person. As a result of that, or as result of me being considerably less popular than I think I am, not many people actually call me. In fact, save for my wife and parents, nobody calls me. Under normal circumstances -– as in, if I were normal -- this would be fine. But for some odd and illogical reason, I still expect people to call me. I am equally annoyed by people calling and not calling. My own cell phone has an automatic keypad-lockin...