Uve gt a nw msg

For Britney Spears it was hitting the right buttons this time. For Kevin-trumpet-blowing-Federline though, the world must crashed.
The bloke who danced his way into Britney’s heart, must have been speared, when his wife of 2 years, texted a message to him, intimating him about their divorce.
The guy must be shattered and must be shedding tears in what was once his heaven. After all, what can be more humiliating than being dumped (unceremoniously), and that too when he was savoring his 15 minutes of fame on a reality show.
His rosy life just turned thorny.
And then they tell me that messaging ain’t all that popular. Ha!
Quite a few people are fairly amazed by the speed by which I can think, compose, and shoot a text message (ting—there, I just got another delivery-report for my last message).
Aha—that person just replied—I do appreciate people who are prompt in replying.
Many are bemused how I am surgically-inseparable from my cell phone (which is a must for me everywhere, except maybe when I am performing my daily ablutions, and other trips to the washroom).
Some find it eerie how I can manage to write a text message, without even having to look at my tiny key pad.
Let me add though that I am not alone in this method of communicating and keeping in constant touch with those I want to; my love for messaging is shared by some friends, prominently two—one with whom I spend many an evening shooting one message after another in quick succession; the other another good friend (but who hasn’t been able to message quite as often, cos’ she's getting nursed back to health after a vicious jaundice attack). Hope she gets well soon.
Texting sure makes me get through the maniacal days.
I frequently cast looks at my dear cell, if it hasn’t vibrated in the previous half-hour, but if it is some chain-forward, all it gets from me is a well-practiced, “Hmphh.”
Some of my friends are of the firm opinion that cells are for talking, and they’d rather call than message.
For me, their words are nothing short of blasphemy.
I mean, I swear by messaging.
How else would you see through the day—office, home, commuting—were it not for those messages-making plans for shopping, movies, coffee-dates, impromptu dinner plans, keeeping in touch with loved ones, all in the twinkling of an eye?
My days begin and end with messages.
And I'm not complaining-not one bit.
Mnwhle, u hve a grt wknd. Njoi. Cu arnd.