Thursday, March 27, 2008

THE RAGE AND THE TEXTING

At Circuit City last week DVDs were on sale. I picked up Marvel's Avengers 1 and 2. These are cartoon movies that were made relativly recently. Watching the first one over this last weekend was enjoyable. It starts off blah blah Steve Rogers blah blah World War 2 hero. He looks like a broken down Captain America. Well that is because he is Cap, just lame and old school. He does a number on the Nazis and then realizes that the Nazis are run by aliens. Then he gets frozen and brought back to life now. Today. The war is over but he is still the super soldier. Bruce Banner is working with SHIELD and Nick Fury is now black. Bruce is checking Steve Rogers' blood and trying to figure out how to control the raging beast within him using the same super soldier serum that made Steve Rogers into Captain America. The story twists and turns and we meet Giant Man who is a true asshole, Iron Man who is another asshole and Thor who is an asshole with a hammer. They all combine forces and go on a mission. Whatever to the mission because Bruce Banner goes off his meds and hulks out with a level of rage that I am only now beginning to comprehend.


So the other day I got this text message on my Blackberry. A text message straight up, attached to a phone number. It said, "I have a crush on you."
Right out of the gate I figured it was one of my daughter's many admirers who had gotten their wires crossed on numbers. It seemed like a logical deduction because my number could get mixed with hers in the shuffle of parental contacts, etc.

Anyway, I fired a text back that said "Ahahaha, you texted the wrong person!"
I figured that was the most benign response that I could come up with. Now in retrospect I have all of these more vicious responses floating through my head. You know, ones like: "Too bad, because I hate every fiber of your being."

But the other part of this is the whole cellie business in the first place. If I'd had a crush on someone when I was younger, there is no way I woulda put that into a text message and sent it out. NO WAY.

I think I let the kid off lightly.

But what if this was an adult? This assumption of mine could be totally off. That could have been an adult texting me. Talking about a crush and whatnot. What kind of adult does that? I have steered from the fact that this text probably came from a female, but I am steering into it now. I don't think guys say that they have a crush on someone. I think guys are a little cruder.

But what if this was a total pedophile who is a 40 something, unshaven, overweight asshole with yellow stains in his t-shirt armpits trolling for young girls to terrorize? The implication here is that it was my daughter he wanted to terrorize, and now as I sit here, I am swelling up like Bruch Banner off his meds.

Or what if it was a sting operation to catch pedophiles? Why would they have my number? And what if they were somehow screwed up and wanted to get ahold of my daughter? What if this was some supremely botched deal here? Undercover work gone stupid? I think my skin is turning green.

What if this was a joke played on me by someone I know in order to see my reaction? This one calms me down ever so slightly, because it is much more peaceful than what I have been thinking.

What if this was a sincere overture from some sort of person who really did have a crush on me? I am almost back to normal, thinking about this aspect. The anger has just about left me.

What if this was coming from some 40 something, unshaven, overweight asshole with yellow stains in his t-shirt armpits who actually WAS interested in me? Look into my eyes, gentle reader. My eyes look like I am wearing white colored contacts. I am losing control here.

What if Mariska Hargitay had somehow realized that there is only one diehard fan of hers out there and she wished to reciprocate? That is something that could normally calm the beast, but I think it is inaccurate and the back of my shirt just ripped...up the spine.

What if Mariska Hargitay's agent was baiting me in order to get a restraining order? Done. My skin is now green.

The possibilities are endless.

I guess I will never know unless I put that number to use that they texted me with in the first place.

I am pretty sure it wasn't Mariska though.

Perhaps I should watch more television and stop with these ridiculous rantings about text messages. Plus, it is quite obvious to me that I am fronting like Bill Bixby in the original Hulk television show.