A Quarter Life Crisis

To snoop or not to snoop, that is the question. Personally I am of the opinion that cell phones like diaries remain exclusive to the owner unless the owner gives permission to others to peruse.

Under normal circumstances no one gets an admission ticket for a ride down the Faith emotional roller coaster that is my journal. Hell under abnormal circumstances no one gets admission. Not because I think what I write about is super top secret spy material but I like that people don’t think I’m a lunatic. It has a ring to it.

There is some extreme emotional shit (for lack of a better word) in there. I frighten myself going back to read entries sometimes. It’s a good thing I have an outlet. The same goes for my cell phone. It serves as an at the hip or in my case in the pocketbook diary and keeper of all things sacred. It’s my on the go tool to house my stuff. Not to mention I can also play bejeweled. It serves so many purposes. And if I lost the cell phone half my life would disappear. I don’t know anyone’s number, birthday or address without it.

So what brought me to this all out love fest for all things cellular….The Best Friend called me late night Saturday interrupting a rather scupticious dream frantic. It seems Dapper Dan (her baby’s father and ex boy-tool) went through her cell phone and found some not for his eyes text messages.

Normally when you snoop through people’s stuff you find things not meant for your eyes that take you to the higher levels of pissedoffness. This is just my opinion, I am not a snoop so I don’t know this from experience!

After a mildly heated argument with such expletives as whore, slut and the such she revoked his sleep on the couch pass. Some people don’t know the bottom until they hit it going 50 mph. Consider his ex-tool privileges if it’s really late when he drops off their son she allows him to stay, there’s normally a decent meal available to coat the empty vat he calls a stomach and clean sheets and pillows. When you think of it she’s a regular bed and breakfast.

The moral to this story, don’t allow the green beast jealousy to take control of you forcing you to snoop through people’s stuff. If you follow this rule you won’t end up dousing your problems in tequila at a janky after hours under the table bar. I’m just saying you probably won’t.

Not to mention riffling through someone’s cellie is in poor taste. But I do understand the inclination to do such a thing. When someone puts his phone down in front of me the bad Faith on my shoulder sometimes suggests my fingers do some walking plus I’m just nosy. What stops me, no not the good Faith on my shoulder, that age old saying treat others the way you want to be treated. If someone eyed the private goodies I keep in my phone I’d hit more than the roof. Consider that a warning.