My wife talks too much. She goes non-stop. I don't even know what she's saying half the time because I tune her out. I try to listen but instead of getting to the point she goes round and round and she loses me. Many of my friends complain about the same thing with their wives and girlfriends. Any thoughts on this?
- Dajuan
Is it that she talks too much or you don't talk enough? Let's be honest about this. Most of us (as in men) rather whack a hornets' nest repeatedly with our bare hands than hold conversations of any great length with our significant others. Early in relationships, it's different though. We're talkative. We're more expressive. But when the chase is over, so is the conversation in a lot of cases. And with that, the communication in many relationships gets reduced to a bastardized form of sign language or a never ending game of charades. Click Here to Finish Reading
Continued: It's the great verbal divide between couples. What starts out as a mere crack threatens to become a major fault line that undermines the entire landscape of the relationship. Ever find yourself at a restaurant with your significant other and because the two of you have very little conversation taking place you begin to glance around the room and notice other table interactions or the lack thereof? Invariably, what you discover is, minus the clanging of forks and knives and perhaps some placating of obnoxious kids, others couples are also dining in relative silence. It's a telling commentary on relationships.
But to your point, there is another side to this and possibly just as problematic. Sometimes women really don't know when or how to shut the f%*k up. They seem to go and on about things that appear irrelevant to our existence. In reality, however, there are times when they're actually pressing us about matters that need to be discussed. There are three conversation non-starters that bubble up over and over again: the children, the bills and the state of the union (as in the relationship). None of which we want to discuss, ever.
Finding that middle ground where both parties can co-exist is ideal, but tricky. It's a classic case of being careful what you ask for, as the conversation that needs to take place about conversations is the very type of conversation you were trying to avoid in the first place. Damn if you do. damn you don't. Irony is a double-headed behemoth that way.
I do have an idealistic thought, however. What if the communication in relationships – going both ways – reflected the principles and spirit of Twitter? Conversations would no longer feel infinite. The short exchanges would consist of thoughts abridged to 140 characters. Yes, we would count the space between each spoken word, as well as the implied punctuation. It's possibly a win/win. Women get to have the dialogue they want or need and men get the brevity that we so desire. Everybody's happy. One
It's come to my attention that some readers occasionally take me too seriously. Certainly, there are points I make that I hope are embraced and thoroughly considered. Often, however, I'm offering a very tongue-in-cheek style of opinion and observations. And while I don't profess to espouse the gentlemen's gospel, I do fully endorse what I provide in the way of commentary and counsel. On that note and in that spirit, today I've decided to share, from the guys at Esquire Magazine, a few thoughts that are flavored with a similar style of wisdom and wit and underscored with the same sort of wink wink self-awareness.
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Continued: This is a list of 10 highly opinionated observations, that I distilled from Esquire's little gray book called The Rules: A Man's Guide to Life, which features more than 600 entries.
Rule #3: Don't trust a man who calls the bathroom "the little boy's room".
Rule #24: A man in a mini-van is half a man.
Rule #40: For the last time, no goddamn speedos.
Rule #62: No matter how greasy the pizza is, you can't blot it with a paper towel and expect to be taken seriously.
Rule #69: No group of people has worse hairstyles than men in government.
Rule #72: A man whose belt is fastened on the last hole looks desperate and 'resourceless'.
Rule #111: The stupider a man, the slower he walks.
Rule #224: People eager to get married can be trusted as much as people eager to get elected.
Rule #276: If you are uncertain how much cologne is enough, you are not allowed to use cologne.
Rule #343: No fluorescent condoms unless they're all that's available.
Michael Wilbon of ESPN’s “Pardon the Interruption” described the media frenzy best when he stated on yesterday’s show that “this is the great overreaction in the history of broadcast television.” Even that may have been an understatement. The idea that Tiger Woods needed to apologize to the American public is all types of irrational. Did Jesus walk the American public down the aisle and give them away to be lawfully wedded to the Coblinasian? One would think so with all the moralizing and sanctimonious sniping coming from the pews.
Nothing is more absurd than the idea of the media being the arbiter of all things moral. The media has celebrity rabies. Ever since the scandal broke, they’ve foaming at the mouth waiting for today’s event to finally happen. All the while, they’ve been trying their best to infect their viewers and readers with the notion that the public’s right to know supersedes Tiger’s right to exist. Even Tiger himself said, via written statement, back in early December that “personal sins should not require press releases.” All Tiger needs to do is apologize to his wife and his family, which I’m sure he has done profusely for the last three months and get back to winning tournaments. Contrary to what pundits suggest, none of us have long memories when it comes to things like this no matter how egregious they may seem. One
My Initial Tiger Woods Commentary (Dec. 2, 2009)
Click Here To See The Press Conference
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Editor's Note: This post is also live at Black Voices.
We all have issues we wrestle with. Warranted or not, some of us try to charge it to our parents or some other factor in our childhood. But try as we may, sometimes, we simply can't. There are times when we own the issues outright. The titles are in our names – no co-signers. Whether it's a fender bender or a full-on emotional car wreck, ultimately we're the ones behind the wheel and we have to take responsibility for our issues and behavior. I say all that to say – real talk – what's up with grown men wanting grown women to call them "daddy" and, accordingly, what's up with the women who go along with it? This is a psychological doctoral dissertation waiting to happen. For my purposes, the question recently surfaced thanks to Usher's new single, "Hey Daddy", now in heavy rotation.
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Continued: The song, itself, I somewhat like – the music and melody at least. If it were only sung in Portuguese or French, with no available translation, I might be okay. But unfortunately, more often than not, lyrics that we can understand tend to cheapen the experience of listening to music. It's the hazard of popular culture – shallowness. And this song would be exhibit A. With words that include the following, it's hard for me not to scratch my head: "you know your daddy's home and it's time to play.... poke it on out, poke it out right there, I'm a fall back while you work that chair ". Something about the reference to "daddy" in a sexual context strikes me, for the lack of a better word, as nasty. And I don't mean that "ooh, you so nasty" type of nasty. I mean that crossing the line type of nasty that makes a woman say "n!gg@ you nasty, get the hell out of my house!"
Maybe it's me. Maybe, I'm the one who doesn't get it, but I just can't warm up to the dirty daddy talk. I understand that in most cases, it's just that – talk or sexual theatre, as it were. However, let's not pretend that all of it is simply lyrical when we know, unfortunately, in some cases, it's literal. Can anyone say "to catch a predator"? See, what women need to know is any man who inquires to "who's your daddy" and he really isn't your daddy should be treated as a yellow traffic light – proceed with caution.
Personally, I'm just not on that Eve's Bayou sh*t or anything remotely close to it. If Mrs. Jamal was into it, I would have told her I'm going to "ease by you" and keep looking for someone who doesn't have daddy issues. Actually, I presume that most women, who enjoy the daddy talk, are not really thinking about it in a genealogical type of way. At the same time, you can't help but wonder if there are some latent issues from some of their childhoods that still linger in their sub-conscious minds about an absentee father or something. Maybe there is. Maybe there isn't. Either way, call me lazy if you want, but I prefer relationships that don't require psycho-analysis.
And, to be sure, this isn't just a black thing. This cuts across cultural lines – evidenced by the popular use of the word "papi" among Latinos. But regardless of race or ethnicity, the problem is rooted with the men. A lot of these guys are suffering from what I call daddy envy, or the displaced fatherhood syndrome. Sexually, it plays out in the minds of men without children, particularly those without daughters – hell, perhaps those without fathers of their own. He wants to feel needed in that paternal type of way so, inexplicably, he begins to see the woman in his bed as a two for one. Then again, it's totally possible that the waters don't run that deep. Maybe some people, men and women, just like the way it sounds. If so, more power to them, I guess.
Men with children, on the other hand, are also capable of going there but far less likely to. Those, who are involved in the lives of their children, get more than their fill of daddy requests. As with moms, it can take a toll. The last thing we want to hear after a long day is a woman, caught up in the moment, telling us to "work it daddy"! Yeah, that's not doing it for me for a variety of reasons.
As for Usher, I'm not sure he knows any better. He's just following in the footsteps of other male artists who've gotten a little reckless with the daddy talk. It was just last year that radio was blaring a song by Twista featuring a young female voice cooing the words "I'm calling you daddy, can you be my daddy, I need a daddy". But don't stop there. Rewind the tape all the way back to 1961 and we find a little known group of dirty old men called Shep and the Limelites performing a well known classic titled "Daddy's Home". Exactly; this thing cuts across generational lines as well. And I did my due diligence by checking the lyrics. Shep, indeed, was not singing to his daughter. I'm reminded of the old man, who always had a pocket full of candy, back in the day and no grown folk, for miles, trusted him. Usher, on the other hand, is harmless and a bit clueless at times I suspect. Last month, he was on the radio pathetically singing some song called "Papers" as he whined about the circumstances of his divorce and now this. I figured Usher to be a classier than what we've been getting as of late. I guess we're all prone to slip sometimes. One
Few people enjoy a life that’s unvisited by setbacks and adversity. Bad times befall the best of us. Straight talk, sh*t happens. It’s a thread that’s woven into our existence that makes us human versions of inventory found at TJ Maxx; we’re all a bit irregular in some form or fashion. Most of us, however, toil in obscurity with not as much as our next door neighbor knowing our issues. But for celebrities, which I use loosely, it’s a different ball game – lives and careers have an interesting way of coming off the tracks that often makes a farce of fame and fortune that once was.
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Continued: Add YouTube and reality television to the mix and one’s dignity can descend at a rapid refund type of rate. Over the past week, I’ve been acutely reminded of this phenomenon via two male R&B artists, who other than their meteoric fall from the charts, actually couldn’t be more different.
In one corner, sporting an unmanaged mohawk and a surplus of flab around his waist is former R&B superstar Bobby Brown – now a contestant on VH-1’s Celebrity Fit Club. In the other corner, “donning” a disheveled off-the-rack suit and drinking a bottle of Budweiser is former Quincy Jones’ protégé Tevin Campbell – now starring in a series of YouTube videos shot in what’s plausibly Toronto’s Chinatown . This can’t be good for either one of them.
Look, I’ve never walked in their shoes, but I can’t help but think that one knows that his pre-millennium R&B career has irreversibly careened off course when he finds himself on Celebrity Fit Club or singing his trio of hits in some nondescript Chinatown cabaret.
Personally, I’m a Chinatown connoisseur. If a city has one, I’m there. However, if your name is Tevin Campbell and you were groomed and produced by the legendary Quincy Jones, who once touted you as the next Michael Jackson, things have gone terribly wrong when you pick up your Blackberry Pearl to learn your manager has just booked you for a gig in the dance hall right right above the Hong Shing Chinese Restaurant. And you know it’s bad when a guy, presumably returning from the restroom, cuts across the stage right in front of Tevin to make his way back to the floor, while Tevin continues to talk to the crowd as if his career isn’t in a complete freefall at that moment. But things don’t get much better, when Tevin, scraggly beard and all, takes a swig from his bottle of ripple Budweiser, in the middle of the song. Yep, nothing suggests the next Michael Jackson as does taking a gulp of Budweiser, to the head, between lyrics.
Note: Patron cuts in front of him few seconds in. Chugs beer @ 2:40 in.
See first few seconds of video below for the sea of young Asian faces.
Not to be outdone in absurdity, however, is Bobby Brown, the former self-proclaimed “King of R&B”. Obviously, Bobby’s life has been, shall we say, a lot more colorful than Tevin’s more tepid existence. So unsurprisingly, Bobby, the undisputed “Celebrity Champ of Sh*t Gone Wrong”, retains his title in this match-up against his much younger foe by offering the most egregious misstep of the two. It's as if Bobby is saying “step out the way youngin’ and let me show you how a grown ass man circles the drain”. Seriously, subjecting himself to a show co-starring Kevin Federline and a drill sergeant named Harvey, who in a full-throated manner, barks one liners like "move your flabby asses and go to the mess hall to get some chow”, is a blinking neon sign that the career is not headed in an upward trajectory. It’s clear that Bobby has gotten real cozy with the desperation of doing almost anything for money. He has to be when in the premier episode Harvey, the drill sergeant, is bragging about a training program that’s used by Marines, Navy Seals and – wait for it – “Vikings”. Not as in the football team, but as in the actual Scandinavian dudes, who raided and colonized parts of Europe in the eleventh century – thooooose Vikings. This is what it’s come down to for Bobby Brown. But what I can’t figure out is how the decision was made, other than a coin toss, whether to cast Bobby for Celebrity Fit Club or Celebrity Rehab, another one of Vh-1’s train wrecks.
What I know for sure is a series of bad breaks and bad decisions have absconded with the self-respect these two, Bobby and Tevin, once had. It’s a damn shame. One
Two Sundays ago, during the Super Bowl halftime show, spectators were again reminded that the NFL still fears contemporary recording artists of color. Granted, pulling out a pierced nipple on prime-time American television isn’t socially kosher but, at the same time, I’m infinitely tired of everything having to be family-values approved. Lunge forward 7 days later and the NBA goes unrepentantly full throttle in the opposite direction, for its halftime show, during last night’s All Star game at Cowboy Stadium in Dallas. The players may not wear cheeky shorts any more, but Shakira, the Colombian-born pop star, shimmied in her microcosm of a skirt alongside Grambling State’s drumline known as “Chocolate Thunder”. Commissioner David Stern must be passing and I'm not talking about a basketball. Regardless, sometimes you have to send the little ones to bed, unleash your adult sensibilities and go with it. What happens in your living room stays in your living room. Click Here to See Video (Bonus footage: Alicia Keys)
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If you watch any television whatsoever, in the last few weeks, you've seen the commercial for the upcoming film Valentine's Day which opens this weekend to a sea of white women crushing on the idea of starry-eyed love. It's not that black women don't harbor the same sentimental longing for a love unlimited, but from what I glean only the who's who of white Hollywood (and the ambiguous Jessica Alba) are depicted as googly eyed love birds. If it helps, however, Jamie Foxx plays a comedic news correspondent of color that gets to report on the anglo-geneous love that springs eternal around him.
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It was GQ gymnastics on the uneven bars of prints and patterns. For the fashion feint-hearted, their own stomachs may have turned sartorial somersaults out of nervousness. Indeed, it came dangerously close to a disastrous dismount, but somehow Stewart Scott of ESPN pulled it off on Super Bowl Sunday. You have to give the bloke credit. It was as brazen as some of the offensive calls made by New Orleans coach Sean Payton. Click Here to Finish Reading & See Video
Continued: Take a look at this ensemble. (You may have to roll the tape or click on the photo to get a larger and clearer view.) First, he's rocking the classic dark blue suit with powder blue pencil thin pinstripes - the way pinstripes should be worn - subtle and simple. Pinstripes should compliment, not compete for attention. Pinstripes shouldn't be background singers who really want to sing lead. Pinstripes are Marlon, Jackie, Randy, and Tito. They know their roles.
But here's where the plot thickens. Utterly undaunted by the rules of mixing patterns, Scott breaks out with the checked/windowpane print dress shirt. SHUT UP! And just when you would think he might temper things with the neck wear, he ups the ante and decisively obliterates all fashion norms by punctuating the affair with a red paisley tie and red pocket square riding shotgun. Someone give this man a certificate of courage and, immediately, find Little Richard so RuPaul can smack him in celebration of such unabashed fashion audacity. Three different prints and patterns converging on one guy isn't highly advised, but this guy on this night made it work. It's the ultimate three-way....okay not the ultimate but it's in the conversation. One
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Over the years, the Super Bowl has morphed into more than just an NFL championship game that culminates with one team hoisting the Vince Lombardi Trophy in victory. It's become the high water mark of American consumption and consumerism. Everything is over the top: the festivities, the analysis, the commercials, the gluttony and so on. And, oh yeah, somewhere submersed in all of that is an actual game. With the full picture of Super Bowl Sunday in mind including the fact this year's game drew the highest ratings for any show EVER, I've taken the liberty to list a few things that we may have learned - some football related, some not. Click Here to Read the List
We learned:
1.) Both Jerry Rice and Emmitt Smith belong to rival street gangs - either that or they belong to rival fraternities. I'm not a member of a gang or a frat, so I'm not sure what I was witnessing. But I was certainly curious as to why the hell they both seemed to be flashing what looked like gang signs on national television during their Hall of Fame inductee recognition.
We learned:
2.) The smartest "Pate-in" involved in last night's game was New Orleans' head coach Sean Payton and not Peyton Manning, contrary to what all the talking heads told us in the pre-game conversations.
We learned:
3.) Companies and advertising firms know what I know: the average American male is a henpecked neanderthal that wears man panties and loves guzzling cases of cheap ass beer. While many of the spots were humorous, I can't recall such a concentration of commercials, in past years, on Super Bowl Sunday that depicted the American male to be so goofy and sophomoric. A man can actually be well dressed, well behaved and funny. It's true. Unfortunately, the advertisers and their hired guns on Madison Avenue have yet to stumble across that concept.
We learned:
4.) The political left wing, perhaps including myself, overreacted to the pro-life commercial featuring Tim Tebow and his mother. The damn thing came off as a commercial for E-Harmony.
We learned:
5.) Indy's head coach Jim Caldwell, despite not showing much emotion on the sidelines, has the best "what the f%*k just happened here" facial expression, which we saw right after Sean Payton called that ballsy onside kick to start the second half.
We learned:
6.) Speaking of ballsy, it's a shame that Sean Payton wasn't coaching for New Orleans when the levees broke. They could have used his ca-hones. Those things are steel fortified.
We learned:
7.) Even though Janet and Justin's nipple-gate from a few years back has banned any chances of "urban" halftime entertainment for a while, rock bands from decades ago appropriately named "The Who" could still put on a hell of a show (in my personal opinion).
Until next year.
Editor's Note: Check out the guest post from friend and fellow blogger, Curtis J. Baker, who I met last year in Chicago at Blogging While Brown 2009. When it comes to men, women and relationships, there is so much to consider and to comment on. I appreciate him contributing to the conversation and I look forward to future guest posts from him and others. Mason
We all are familiar with the feminine quip: "It's hard to find a good man these days". And finding a good black man is socially portrayed to be a study in cryptozoology! Nevertheless, disheartened sisters everywhere chant this slogan as if it were the gospel according to John. This hopeless hymn among women is filled with "What the Hell's, No He Did Not's, and the classic 'I Can Do This by Myself' verses. It's a one-sided peer group, where each soror can adequately contribute personal examples contrary to the topic. Click Here to Finish Reading
Continued: But, where are our heroines supporting good men by yelling it from the rooftops? Are there really no good men in America ? Or are women’s vocal cords forever silenced in the grip of the ever-present 'playa'? Ladies, good black men everywhere need to hear you!
The definition of a good black man is debatable. But what is agreed upon, among men, is there is a lofty ideal that women possess. Their ‘good man’ ideals fall either short of the ability to fly or at her father's perfect feet! For the sake of this post, a good man is simply a provider, a lover, and a friend, with all the nuances inherent to each descriptor.
There is power in the title of 'a good man'. And I believe this power is the rich source of a woman's reluctance to acknowledge him. Follow me, if you will ladies. Your fears are laid bare in the following…
- A good man creates a safe haven for his family. A woman today may fear this is a threat to her 'new womanhood'. And in advertising she has a good man, weakens the beauty society has created in her womanhood.
- A good man today allows his woman tangible, unobtrusive freedom in any endeavor she undertakes. A woman today may consider this a weak characteristic. She does not recognize the 'good man' who asks the hard questions, steps aside, and lets her face her ultimate fear…flying.
- A good man loves your family as equally as his own. A woman today may fault her man for being brutally honest with her about a sibling. Honesty is the first step in progress. Do not fear your family will gravitate towards such sensibility.
- A good man is in high demand. Yes! There is a huge demand on the market for good men! Truthfully, other women have noticed your 'good man'. And many have even told he is so! But have you? Praising your man will not make him more susceptible to being unfaithful.
I could go on and on. The above are just a few examples. But my point is simple ladies: If you have a good man, overcome your fears and TELL HIM HE IS! If you dare, venture beyond the 'I appreciate what you do' comment. In the mind of most men, this sounds like the trophy you get for just participating in a sport. FYI, we want the MVP trophy!
If you tell your man today he is a good man, do not be surprised how he lights up and how more open he becomes. I can attest that hearing these words makes me proud and validates my daily efforts.
I guarantee the fear you hold in telling your man he is good, will vanish. Sisters, you are not losing the beautiful, phenomenal power of your womanhood in such a profound act. You are proactively increasing a man's ability to love with you and securing his manhood. In today's society, a black man's manhood is seen as more suspect and insecure than ever. Ladies, let a few simple words will change your relationship and the world!
Curtis J. Baker is a colleague of Mason Jamal and author of the progress centered blog www.thejobagroup.org
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One of the upcoming Super Bowl Sunday commercials will feature Florida Gator standout Tim Tebow expressing his pro-life views. The spot is funded by the far right Christian conservative group called Focus on the Family. In a preemptive response, Planned Parenthood has released their own commercial featuring former Viking Sean James and Olympian Al Joyner. In the ad, the athletes say they "respect Ms. Tebow's decision" not to have an abortion when she was pregnant with her son Tim, but they are also "working toward the day where...every woman's decision about her health and her family will be respected." As a man, sports fan, and someone who is also pro-choice, it's refreshing to see male athletes step up and deliver this message. It's also cool to see it delivered in such a classy and tasteful manner. Click Here to Finish Reading & View the Commercial
Continued: I am wondering, however, if there are any pro-choice present day athletes that are more prominent and popular who could have delivered this message or are they all too chicken-sh*t to "take a stand" on something other than choosing Sprite over 7-Up or Nike over Reebok. It reminds me of when Michael Jordan famously refused to endorse the opponent of racist Senator Jessie Helms in his home state of North Carolina because, as he put it, "Republicans wear sneakers too". Utterly shameless. Jim Brown should have kick-dropped him and Muhammad Ali should have bit his lip, shook his fist at him and spit out some clever rhyme in response to Jordans's cowardice.
For that matter, even though I disagree with Tim Tebow's pro-life position, I respect him for standing up and supporting something he believes in. Most present-day athletes, with endorsement deals hanging in the balance, don't have the heart. That's why Planned Parenthood had to go and unearth these two almost forgotten former greats. Okay, for real, I have no clue who the hell Sean James is, other than I read he used to play for the Minnesota Vikings. But I'm glad to see him, whatever position he played, along with Al Joyner doing this spot. Well done. One
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(Question from reader) My girlfriend has issues. She gets upset every time I go out to a strip club with my friends. I try to tell her it's just entertainment, but it's always an argument when I get home. Why can't she just relax about it?
- Myron
So here's the deal: every couple has their own version of what's known in broadcast media as "standards and practices". They guide the moral and ethical decisions that are made within a relationship. Ideally, both parties are in agreement on what they'll tolerate in terms of edgy content, but that's not always the case. Specifically, the entertainment value of disrobed women, seductively gyrating in stilettos for a night's pay, seems to be a point of contention for a lot couples. Click Here to Finish Reading Click Here to Finish Reading
I'm bothered by things the average man doesn't pay attention to. In a way, I feel it's my job to be bothered and to blog about it. This is what I do. I observe and report. With that said, I'm growing extra weary of men and their cellular sensibilities or the lack thereof. Something must be said. The respectability of millions of men is at stake. To remain silent, makes me complicit to the problem. I can't continue to have this on my conscience. So consider today's post an intervention of sorts. Men, if any of the following applies to you, take note. If it doesn't apply, take heart that you are making good decisions when it comes to your sense of technological style. On that note, there are five things that all metro-savvy men need to know about carrying a cell phone: Click Here to Read the List
(Continued:)
1.) Men, with any sense of self-respect, don't carry Blackberry Pearls. For those offenders, today would be a good day to stop. It's one of the un-manliest things a guy can do - right up there with going to aerobics class and getting excited about the season finale of Grey's Anatomy. Another way to look at it is men simply shouldn’t carry phones that have ever been described as cute. Ever wonder why the good folks over at Research In Motion (RIM), the makers of the Blackberry, branded it something as effeminate sounding as the “Pearl”? Think about it: they got other phones named the Blackberry "Storm" (crap device by the way) and the Blackberry "Bold" - both very strong, if not aggressive, names. And you got the nerve to pull out of your purse pants something called the Pearl. It's not your defining moment as a man. More importantly, it’s 2010. If you are going to carry a smart phone, man the f#*k up and get a full keyboard.
2) There are only three colors to choose from when it comes to a man’s cell phone: black, blacker, and blackest. Minus some chrome or metallic trim, your phone should be militantly black. It should be so black that they throw in two sides of macaroni and cheese and collard greens (with packets of hot sauce). Any other color is simply not respectable. Show me a man carrying a primary colored phone and I'll show you a man women would never throw their panties on stage for. The choice in color, even if it's sub-conscious, is indicative of how he sees himself and runs his life. This is what I'm saying.
3) Look, I know you’re trying to take extra precaution, but stop placing your phone in those hideous protective cases that look combat-ready for overseas duty. While you're at it, lose the rubbery case. It looks and feels like a phone wrapped in a heavy duty impenetrable condom. Personally, I’m all about the unprotected conversations. Get a grip you candy-asses and stop being afraid you might drop your phone. It's comparable, in tackiness, to having expensive post-contemporary furniture only to be covered in those 70’s plastic “slip covers".
4) For the love of God, stop carrying your cell phone in a holster. Unless you work in the IT Department or you want to look like you work in the IT Department, I strongly advise against it. Holsters are for guns, not cell phones. And I strongly advise that you don’t walk around in the public domain wearing a holster carrying either one.
5) And finally - cease and desist with the ringtones. If you’re a regular reader of my blog, I’m guessing you’re north of 30 years of age. No one needs to hear the newest obnoxious ringtone that a grown ass man just downloaded because he wants everyone to think he keeps up with the latest music. It’s the epitome of trying too hard.
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