colloquialism [kuh–loh-kwee-uh-liz-uhm] n. 1. a word or phrase appropriate to conversation and other informal situations 2. the use of colloquial words or phrases
Alexander Graham Bell (1847), Beatrice Wood (1893), Jean Harlow (1911), James Doohan (1920), Doc Watson (1923), Perry Ellis (1940), Jennifer Warnes (1947), Tim Kazurinsky (1950), Robyn Hitchcock (1953), Ira Glass (1959), Jackie Joyner-Kersee (1962), Tone Loc (1966), David Faustino (1974), Jessica Biel (1982)
In the past when someone told he’d lost his cell phone, my immediate reaction was always incredulity. It was tantamount to forgetting to wear pants to Thanksgiving, or leaving your hunting rifle at home when spending the weekend at the Palin residence. How could anyone, in this day and age, misplace their cell phone?
And then this past Tuesday happened.
I’m a bartender and my clothes go through a lot of wear and tear so I frequently need replacements. So Tuesday afternoon, I left a little early to swing by Target for new shoes and pants. When I got to work, I immediately went downstairs to change into my new duds and then headed upstairs for my shift. I reached into my pocket to switch my phone to silent as I always do but it wasn’t there. I searched my jacket. No phone. I went back downstairs to where I got dressed. No phone. I concluded that I must’ve left the damn thing at home and went about my business.
Several hours later, I arrived home and the first thing I did, of course, was search for my phone. It was nowhere to be found. I’d become one of the dozens of people I’d mocked. I was now one of them. And, to put it mildly, I was displeased.
Over the course of the next 24 hours, some startling realities came to light.
First, I never fully realized that I use my cell phone as a timepiece. I always knew that I’m apt to flip it open like a pocket watch and check the time about 15 times per hour but I didn’t understand how displaced I would feel without being able to do so.
Next, the inability to instantaneously text or call whomever I wished was sobering to me. I mean, I’m old enough to remember the days when no one but people like my father had cell phones. The rest of us had to wait to get home before we could get in touch with someone to share whatever it was we thought they needed to know.
The last realization was the worst: Not having my phone made me feel uncomfortable, like something just wasn’t right. It frustrated me that a small piece of plastic filled with microchips had the ability to affect me like that.
So, all the those notions perturbed me, but not actually having my phone was way worse. I tore apart the bedroom, the car, the everything. No phone. Shitty.
I resolved myself to the fact that it was gone. I made plans to go to the Verizon store and get a new one, extremely unhappy that all my phone numbers, pictures, etc. would be lost. I was not looking forward to it.
But, before I did all of that, I decided to go back to the restaurant and look around one last time. And there the little fucker was, underneath the printer tray in the room where I got changed. Just sitting there like, “Hey, where you been?”
So I apologize to all of you whom I’ve ridiculed for doing exactly what I did the other day. It happens. I understand that now.
He is the happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home. ↔ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Just started listening to Chicago indie outfit Smith Westerns. So far, I like “Weekend.”
→ I’m absolutely sure this dude needed to get arrested. But we’re in a bit of a gray area here, I think.
→ After reading a story like this, it’s hard to imagine how any out there would want to become a teacher.
→ I’d like to meet the person who bought Justin Bieber’s hair clippings for over $40K just so I can tell people I know the most enormous idiot on the planet.