God, how fucking rich would I be if I could develop a breathalizer attachment compatible with all the world's cell phones? I know that nearly every girl I'm friends with would consider this a must-have, self-help purchase. Also it needs to have a feature to disable drunk texting. Maybe you'd have to text one of those annoying security text images first, the scrambled jpeg of text and letters, in order to access your messaging application. I don't know, I'm still ironing out the bumps on this function.
The important thing is that it would drastically cut down (hopefully) on the levels of embarrassment and self-loathing in the mornings when one scrolls their in & out boxes and checks call logs. Since this device-or application- doesn't actually exist yet, I'm getting good at flat out deleting bitches numbers, but not good enough, so what I need to do now is start dating an engineer and get this ball rolling.
But I can already hear the arguments now: "But Jessae, we're in love, why do you still need this device? Who are you calling late at night?" I'll roll my eyes and pitch it as the cash cow that it is, adding, "Baby, it's not for me, it's for the girl I used to be. There are so many lonely, lost, drunk, & heartbroken people out there after last call who need to not drunk dial." Either that or I'll just hit him again and tell him to get the fuck back to work. I'm not positive as to why but every engineer I've ever met is in some sort of horrible emo band and thus I think of them as giant pussies.
If/when this all actually happens one thing I'll really miss are the messages my drunk-self occasionally sends to my sober-self. One such gem was a few months ago. I woke up with a little envelop icon indication and unread message. I was absolutely positive I'd engaged in zero text conversations the night before and so I was thinking this might be an unsolicited greeting or maybe even an invite for some hung-over coffee get-together.
It was neither. It read dignity is overrated. From me, several hours ago. Oh no. This, I am sure, is some sort of reassurance or justification for my drunk-ass self having done something excessively idiotic. I began to panic. A quick race through my inbox, outbox, and in & outgoing call lists showed them to be empty. Also- not a very good sign. At the time I was protecting my fragile, morning-after ego. I was playing "vegas" with myself. Whatever cringe worthy things I had done in my intoxicated stupor were going to stay put with in the limited memory of that stupor, sparing myself the inevitable mortification of my crimes against my own dignity.
Similarly just last week I got a self-sent message saying "10:30". That's it. Just "10:30". It was well past that time in the AM when I got up and I was going to be in the first leg of my bar shift at 10:30 that night, so I just closed the case on that one, but not before asking everyone I was out with what it might possibly indicate.
So I guess the next step is to find that engineer. I have utterly no idea how to go about this. Where do whiny boys with MIT degrees and 100K jobs hang out? I only know where to find & pick up the broke artsy/musician types. I love those types. I love them so much I think about them all the time and text them long into the night and well into the wee hours of the morning. I text them with out shame- or dignity apparently.
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