Cell-phone minutes don't grow on calling trees

Last fall I was helping a buddy paint a room in his new house, and he borrowed my phone to call his wife. I thought the conversation was getting a little long, especially since it didn't occur after 7pm, before 7am, or on the weekend. I told him this line about minutes and trees and shared a chuckle with my paint roller. My buddy didn't appear to hear. Dang phones. In class last night, we had a big discussion about the causes of cell-phone popularity and the effects on the future of our culture. It was a good discussion. Pheople are phassionate about their phones. Over my dis, mis, and unwild SB, I was told by an old friend in the cities that my phone was a bit large. I don't think that this is the case. I should provide a picture. I brought up this phony critique to my class last night and they wanted a description. I began by saying that the letter "z" was not in the name and they became skeptical. After guessing at the dimensions, I added that it has an antenna--snorts, guffaws, and giggles greeted this revalation. I'm planning on bringing my phone to class next week. I'm guessing they're expecting a backpack style carrying case. When I look back at my 30th year, I think that cell-phones and students loans will overshadow this stage of my life. Pax.