Sunday, October 25, 2009
"Denise Handicapped "
I'm catching up on last week's Curb Your Enthusiasm where Larry's supposed to be watching Jeff and Susie's daughter play in the ocean and when she gets caught in an apparent riptide, he pauses to stow his BlackBerry safely in a beach towel before attempting a rescue (by then, the parents have heard her distress cries and fished her out themselves).
He protests, "I was going into the water, and then I realized I had the BlackBerry..." trailing off into a scream of protest as Susie grabs it from him and pitches it into the ocean.
I don't think he behaved unreasonably, or at least not implausibly. I was out to dinner with a friend of mine recently when the server jiggled the table and sent scalding hot soup in every direction. Whereas I am normally the clumsiest klutz ever, I suddenly reacted with the speed and reflexes of a superhero (BlackBerryGirl) deftly snatching her Storm and my Bold off the table before so much as a drop of soup could even land and splash either of our precious phones. Prospective third degree burns for either me or my dining companion? Eh. An admitted afterthought. A blister is one thing, but everybody knows BlackBerry won't warranty a device out if there's water damage.
As Larry commisserates later with JB Smoove, who gives him a message that Denise called, he explains he can't just call information and get her number. He doesn't know her last name. He just has her stored in the BlackBerry under "Denise Handicapped" (hey, don't look at me, I didn't name her). She's in there with "Shawn Yoga" and "Teresa Masseuse." JB Smoove's, on the other hand, is populated with "Nancy Big Tits" and "Sweet Ass."
I realize how precarious my own contacts list is every time I go to the BlackBerry store and have to have Lucas or Russell back it up. I always apologize for the List, and they always reassure me, "oh that's nothing compared to what we see."
But how else would I know not to pick up the phone unless I could see names like "Idiot Jere," and "Ignore The Box Lady" and "Crazy Mad Doggie Day Care" or "BatShit Crazy Mavis" or "Asshole Realtor." You don't wanna know the names the Telemarketers are stored under.
Hell, I don't even remember who "Goofy Guy 7" is -- much less the identities of one thru six who must have preceded him. But I'm not about to pick up and find out.
(Who is the Box Lady? Honestly, I have no idea.)