Until a few weeks ago I was under the impression that my cell phone could only hold 25 text messages. I believed this because whenever it would reach 25 it would flash that it was out of memory, and since I was worried I wouldn’t be able to receive anymore texts I would just be in a constant state of deletion, which is a good and bad thing. 25 texts go by in a few days for me, as that is how everyone makes plans, etc. Then a few weeks ago I just stopped deleting messages and before I knew it I was up to 250, so clearly, my phone is a liar.
Now there are a few messages I have kept on my recent phone for months and months, ones that I just couldn’t bring myself to delete, because they were so funny, or because, well I just couldn’t delete them. Still, today I cleaned house I gathered my phones from the past year and discovered a few random gems.
I have been taken hostage in Urban Planet. They have gold pleather boots in here. Help.
Beer is patient.
Yeah, I’m alive and grumpy. Fucking airports.
Hey. Miss you.
I hope he gets attacked by a purple inflatable cow while he’s there.
Hey, do you fancy the gym? Actually, lets go drinking instead.
p.s. The door business sucks. Put that in your paper as well.
After the door slammed this morning I had to suppress the urge to open it and scream after him “It’s a hooka!”
I’m at subway “making” dinner.
It is his daughter.
You better be getting really drunk, I want funny stories tomorrow!
I’m feeling pretty tired, but I might last the whole film. I must sound so rock and roll to you.
Hey, hey I just found you some microwave popcorn!
I want to hit him in the face with my shoe.
Haha! Yeah, I may be a lgitule drunk…the sides says hi! I’ll call you in the tomorrow. Love you!
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx. Kisses. Boo-ya!
Hey, do you know what the code for the door is? I hate numbers. Why can’t they just scan our eyes instead.
This is why you should keep your keys, cash, cards and other personal effects in your pockets. Wallets are for suckers.
Hope you packed your sleep suit!
Hey kid, smile.
I can only imagine what I sent in return. Thankfully, my phone doesn’t save sent messages.
EDIT: I’ve been forwarded a few messages that I have sent to Ali in an attempt to remind me I’m just as guilty.
I love that you have whole carrots in your fridge. Oh, and bananas work best on the counter.
I’m cooking dinner in a dress and boots. Who would have thought this day would come?
37 C is 98.6 F. What are you fact checking her?
At least you can take small joy in that you left him with an addiction.
Why are you texting me? Clearly you should be fucking him already.
Any hilarity lurking on your phone? Or is there anything on your phone that you wouldn’t want someone to uncover? Or how about your computer?
I was just having this conversation with a friend and there definitely would have to be some cleaning up if I was passing my computer around. Or perhaps I’m just really territorial.