Life
by Jared Freid on October 18, 2012

“Yooooooooooooo”

I hate this text because we are no less than four texts away from getting to the point. I have to send a “Yoo,” then I have to send a “What’s Up?” then I have to wait 45 minutes for you to respond because you sent this same exact “Yoo” to ten people like a huge net thrown over a group of fish in the ocean. You just want to see what you can bring back to your boat of boredom. The fish with guy problems will be taken along for the ride during the commercial breaks of your “SVU” marathon and the fish with lives will just be annoyed this “Yoo” meant nothing.

“Who is going?”
I hate this text because your friend doesn’t trust you. They need to be sold on your pre-game, party, bar, or group sex event. Answering the “Who is going?” text is even worse. It’s the equivalent of asking a chick to go home with you and her saying, “let me see your penis” then you pulling it out and her taking a long hard look at your flaccid, not even chubbed up (because, like your description, this is bare bones) dong. Then her telling you to hold the phone for a second while she examines another dudes dong, talks about the flaccid dongs with her friends, laughs a little, then responds to neither of you because she kinda sorta thinks there are better penises at a club where an Indian kid got bottle service.

“ROFLMAO”
It’s the dishonesty of this text I can’t stand. You’re not laughing this hard. You’re probably just making a creepy smirk like you own a van and the park is full of kids. I’d rather get that acronym: “SMS” (Smiling Like Sandusky). At least it’s honest. If you’re the type to send acronyms then I only want honest ones. Any of the following Acronyms work: DTF (Down to Fuck), DTMO (Down to Make Out), DTFK (Down to French Kiss), DTMOASWH (Down to Make Out and See What Happens), DTC (Down to Cuddle), HLCAYCRYBOMUIHATIFGIAGYHABJ (Hey Lets Cuddle and You Can Rub Your Boner On Me Until I give In and Give You Half a Blow Job).

“Call me…”
I assume that anytime someone gets a heart attack it’s because someone texted them “Call me.” There’s never a good reason for a “Call me” text. I’ve never gotten one and thought “I’m sure everything is fine and there’s a chick who wants to bang me,” I’m usually thinking, “I don’t know why my doctor would deliver the news about my herpes through my buddy Big Kat but I guess I’m never getting a blowjob again.”

“Do you like Thai food?”
This type of text happens when you’re starting to date someone or meet them at a bar. Any type of question that would be asked over a date shouldn’t be done over text. It’s not only ruining the first or second date but we’ve barely met and I have to remember that you like this movie or that food. It screams of “I’m bored” and I usually don’t date anyone who does this type of texting. I just start answering every question with “You’ll see……” and it gets so creepy that they stop. Then I spend a few days whacking it to their Facebook pics which is the same as having sex with them but easier to fart during. So I’m saying I’m creepy.

“hmmmmmmmm”
A text like this has ruined my day. I’ll text something like, “Are you coming?” and ten minutes later I get “hmmm” which means you’re thinking (but really it means you’re the worst). The assumption is that there will be a quick follow up text to “hmm” so I stare at my phone in the way a drunk guy stares at boobs. Sitting. Waiting. Now I’m thinking it’s coming soon I go onto Facebook, now I’m looking at ex-girlfriends, then I’m looking at ex-girlfriend’s friends, then I’m reading their fashion blogs, then I’m on twitter. Still waiting, battery life draining, nowhere to whack off to this fashion blog, still waiting. Then finally you get done “hmmmmm-ing” and I get back, “Not sure.” Now I’m heading out for the night with 20% battery which is like holding a ticking time bomb, because once that thing dies you’re dead to the world.

“Where is the bar?”
I used to hate anyone that would send this that wasn’t my grandmother. Google has been around for too long and you’re putting me in a position to write 2012’s douchiest line “Google it, Bro.” But then Apple Maps happened. If this was the last thing Steve Jobs did as president then I hope he is in a level of hell where he has to wear belts and there are no turtlenecks. The first time I used Apple Maps I ended up in QUEENS (Also known as Hell’s Immigrant Waiting Room). So I just started crying while looking to the sky screaming “Why!?!?!” I still hate this question but now it’s Apple’s fault. If I were Black I’d get a Sidekick but I’m not so I’ll ride this Apple Maps thing out.

I think we can all agree that getting rid of these texts will make all of our perpetually hung over lives a lot easier and less anxious. If you’ve got something to say, then say it and if you’re pregnant just call, but really don’t call, I’ll meet you at the clinic.

Jared Freid is a New York City-based comedian. follow him on Twitter @jtrain56 for videos, columns, and more acronyms. You can check out his latest video from the Flugtag here.

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