Texting in the Twilight Zone

The last few weeks have felt a bit like a walk through the Twilight Zone. I don’t know if its a lack of sleep, too much stress or the natural process of aging. I’m not old, by the way. If forty is the new thirty (as I’ve heard) then I’m still using training wheels in the world of adulthood. Yet, there is a whole generation bearing down on me with life experiences I can’t even fathom. Gen X, we aren’t even on the radar anymore. Generation Y is nipping at our heels with their text messages and smart phones and all the other technological advances we missed. (I mean, we thought pagers were cool. We passed handwritten notes in class....and NO...nobody walked to school barefoot in the snow, that’s another story).

I used to see myself as kind of worldly, with just the right dash of sophistication thrown in. I rocked half-shirts and teeny-tiny skirts and knew the difference between a Kamikaze and a Buttery Nipple. Now? Not so much, actually. I’m finding myself acting as weird as my folks used to. You know, the kind of weird where your sixteen year old self would shake her head in embarrassment and demand to be dropped off a block from school to avoid the sheer humiliation of being associated with her dorky parents?

Last Friday, I got a text message on my phone from a number I didn’t recognize. I wasn’t in a huge hurry to check it because for the most part, I don’t text. I don’t like trying to have an ongoing conversation with anyone where I’m stuck reading whole sentences filled with abbreviations. (LOL). If you need to say something to me, call me or send me an email. Better yet, find me on Facebook, as I’ll probably be there at some point tending one of my farms, cafes or amusement parks, and I’ll see your message.

In any case, when I finally got down to actually reading this text, I wasn’t entirely sure what it meant. I had an idea but, truthfully, I’ve been out of the loop so long, that slang is equivalent to Greek. Add in a bunch of abbreviations and it’s like reading a Calculus problem in a foreign language (while standing on your head). The text went something like this:

“Yo Dawg. I got me some killa Cali Gold and be lookin’ 2 hook u up wid some phat green. Waitin 4 u to call.”

See what I mean? My first thought was that I was reading rap lyrics. My second thought was that ‘Cali Gold’ must be a bit like ‘Texas Tea’. (you know, like the theme song to The Beverly Hillbillies?) My third thought was probably the most accurate. I determined that either A. Somebody was yanking my chain, or, B. Some drug dealer had mistakenly texted me with his daily special.

I could have texted back and let the little thug know I was a married mother of two and didn’t find his line of work particularly ethical and that I was turning his number over to the local authorities. Unfortunately, I’m just not that great a citizen. I opted to take a photo of the text for amusement purposes. It is, without a doubt, the most interesting message I’ve ever received on my cell phone. Although, I’m still troubled by the term ‘phat’. In my world, calling anything or anyone ‘phat’ (however you choose to spell it) is an insult.

Oh well, as soon as I find my camera I’ll upload a photo of the text message to share its amusement value (as well as to provide the world wide web the phone number of a drug dealer. I hope his mother recognizes the number and let’s him have it!) Wouldn’t that be ‘phat’?????

Peace Out!!!!!