The dangers of T9 texting

Kerry and I were idly browsing around the web looking at various things like FaceBook, when she started looking at her friend Verge’s MySpace page. Now, strangely enough, Kerry doesn’t have a MySpace page. She has a FaceBook page, her own web site, is a complete gmail and Google Chat addict, endlessly browses other people’s blogs, but doesn’t have a MySpace page. As it so happens, I foolishly signed up for one of those retarded corners of the web world when it was first popular. I’ve since run screaming into the night.

I mean MySpace, in my not so humble opinion, is a safe-haven for LSD-induced page layouts, strange and horrible music arrangements, and just plain bad mojo, but I digress …

There I was, braving the perils of MySpace so that we could look at some of Verge’s pictures when I noticed that my friend Kendal had updated his photo album with new pictures. Of course I had to take a look. That was when things started to unwind.

As it turns out, it looked like Kendal had a new girlfriend. That, of course meant that I had to text him. The conversation went like this (quoted from my phone’s text logs):

Me: Dude, when did you start dating Erica?

Kendal: Excuse You!!!

Me (a little confused): Your MySpace profile seems to indicate that . How goes life?

Kendal: Read what you wrote blockhead!!!

At this point I thought a review of what I’d sent was appropriate. Here’s what was actually recorded in my phone log:

Me: Dude, when did you start eating Erica?

I’m mortified. The humiliation never ceases.