So, yesterday my crotch was vibrating, and my high school gal-pal N. was on the other end.
Slap Get your dirty mind out of the gutter! Those of you who know me should know better. Those of you who don't, know this: My life has a wild streak, but it's not that wild.
So I like to drive in my car with loud, l-o-u-d music. If I had one of those things in the back like the guys with the tricked out cars, then the fiberglass in my car would rattle, too.
That's how loud I like my music.
I'm just normally not listening to Tupac (though I loves me some good California Lovin'), I'm more listening to The Killers, Dave Matthews or the man I affectionately call Fitty Cent.
There's something about being swallowed by the music that's pumping out of the eight speakers scattered around my vintage (does 10 years make something vintage?) VW. It's almost as if I'm cruising down I-71 submersed in my own private rock concert. My eardrums get off on the thumping that comes with the jacked up sound of my stereo.
Unfortunately, my penchant for loud music has a way of making me missing phone calls.
Lots of phone calls.
Charlies Angels, In Da Club, Knight Rider, no matter the ringer on my cellie, I miss lots of calls when I'm simultaneously cruisin' and jammin'.
And so, that's how I figured out if I put my phone on vibrate and keep it in my lap, well, it does a good job of letting me know I'm loved.
Not Sex-and-the-City-Pearl-Bunny loved, but Can Ya Hear Me Now? loved.
I'm sure I'm not the only driver to resort to the vibrator setting while behind the wheel, but I'm unsure how many others are motivated by the loud tunage crooning out of their stereo.
And the best thing about this particular vibrating apperatus is that the battery lasts far longer.