- If I’m asking you how many hours a day you wear your contacts and you can’t even look up from texting on your phone to give me the dickish answer “all day”–this is another rant entirely–then you might be a dick.
- If I’ve called your name to take you back to the doctor and you hold a finger up in a “one minute gesture” and continue your texting and/or cell phone conversation, then you might be a dick.
- If I admit that a lot of medical machines are not affected by cell phones but that the one that I’m about to use on you is indeed affected by cell phones and ask that you please turn off your cell phone and in response you give me a “yeah right” look, then you might be a dick.
- If I’m using the machine which is affected by cell phones and the screen is jumping all over the place and I then find out that it’s because you were getting texts after having not turned off your cell phone despite my asking, then you might be a dick.
- If I’m teaching you to put in your contacts and you touch your phone not once, but twice, to answer a text and make me make you wash your hands again (cell phones are one of the most disgusting filthy appliances in the world so you do not want to touch them and then touch your eye), then you might be a dick.
I’ll admit that I’m being a little snarky here, so I’ll finish by clarifying that there is no “might” about it. If you do any of these things, then you sir (or madam) are, in fact, a dick.
TURN OFF YOUR FUCKING CELL PHONE OR I WILL MAKE YOU EAT IT!
In other news, my newest piece at The Indie Chicks went up on Monday. “The Skinny on the 7 Day Detox Diet” is up, so check that out for want a breakdown (and an update) on what it’s really like to do the detox without all of the flowery, magical (aka bullshit) phrases that diet sites use to describe it.