“Look, Ma. No Hands!” – A Crazy Speakerphone Saga
Can I just say that I love speakerphone? I just did, and I haven’t turned into a bumbling idiot – unlike some presidential-type persons during televised theater disguised as a meaningful debate – so I guess I’m fine. But anyway, I love using my cell phone on speaker mode.
Why just today, I was performing one of the most rudimentary tasks men do in the bathroom when my phone rang. No, dear readers, get your minds out of the toilet. I was shaving, people. Shaving. Or at least I was engaged in the pre-shave process of lathering up my hair-studded face when the call came in.
By the way, wouldn’t Hair Studded Face be a phat name for a ZZ Top cover band? I think so. But I digress, or maybe not. Isn’t that why we men engage in the daily practice of facial deforestation? To avoid looking like either ZZ Top?
Well Hello There ‘Sis
So there I was, lathering up and thinking about all of the toxins I have been told are in shaving cream (it’s not just soap in a can, bruh) when I heard the opening measures of Jon Sebastian’s ‘Welcome Back’, which just happens to be my ringtone. As I looked over at the screen to learn who would be calling during my daily ritual of barbarism, enhanced with aloe vera, I realized it was my sister.
My sister? She won’t care if I’m shaving, right? So I gingerly reached over to tap the screen, without showering it with said aloe vera, and issued my customary sibling greeting. A delightful conversation ensued while I utilized both my hands, and about half of my dexterity, to slice and dice the topographical nightmare that is every male neck.
I was listening to her with half my brain while the other hand pondered the logic behind what I was doing. It occurred to me that I had covered my face and neck with a mixture of cream-looking stuff, butane, the equivalent of plant excrement, and whatever else the shaving cream guys decided to throw in the vat.
I then picked up a blade – I shave with a straight blade, boys. No wussy safety razors or electric hedge trimmers for me. I placed this incredibly sharp instrument against my skin and pushed upwards. I suddenly thought to myself, “Am I INSANE?!” Apparently, that’s affirmative, because I kept repeating the masochistic game of facial roulette until all of the cream-like substance was gone. My hair studs were allegedly gone, too.
I Never Missed a Beat
I’m proud to say that I never missed a beat of the conversation. I managed to be the same semi-intelligent, single-syllable orator I always am on the phone, even while being ever so careful not to slit my own throat. The call ended and I suddenly felt triumphant.
What else could I do while on speaker phone…without the other person being any the wiser? I could finger-irrigate my nasal cavity and one ear simultaneously. I could turn up my eyelids like my old 8th grade friend, Tom. I could conduct the NY Symphony Orchestra, work on my Spock impression, and even improve my ability to mangle American Sign Language by practicing in front of the mirror – all because I don’t have to hold a phone to my ear.
Ah, yes. Speakerphone. Thank you to whomever had the foresight to invent such a brilliant conversation feature. If you ever call me and hear the faint sound of water running in the background, along with an occasional yelp that sounds a lot like a grown man stepping barefoot on a LEGO at three in the morning, know that I’m probably shaving.
