Just as I was starting to get some homework done, or at least started, or at least resented, I got a text message on my phone. Will the wonders never cease? I mean, holy shit, a month ago my old phone didn’t even get phone messages — I would get a few blocks from home and all of a sudden it would go apeshit with bells and buzzing letting me know that I had a voice mail from my dad and my sisters singing “Happy Birthday” into my voice mail. This is why I don’t call them back — I cannot fucking stand that fucking shit and it is definitely not something that I want to encourage. In any case, my phone told me that I had a message, so I checked it, and it was something like this:
“Which do you prefer, late-night-cake or before-school-cake?”
Anyone who knows me at all knows that there is no such thing as before school for me. I mean, I have an elaborate system of lights and screaming klaxon alarms that causes the neighbors to seek shelter in the basement and wail about the terrible weather — what with tornado warnings emanating from my room mid-winter.
“Late night, but I’m not picky about the timing. By the way, that was the first text message that I have ever gotten. <3 OMGWTFBBQ”
It didn’t take long to get a classy response:
“Sweet Christ! I’m ripping ass so bad!”
With that, the wheels were set in motion for the inimitable Cake Lady to show up on my doorstep bearing a tray of chocolatey deliciousness.
“I expect you to eat all of this,” she said. I made the mistake of referring to the food as cake, and she sharply corrected me. “It’s brownie! The Caramel!”
Anyway, Cake Woman got to see her pictures again and fun was had by all. I still think that text messages cost two or three dollars a piece, but maybe I’m just afraid of all this new fangled technology.