The only downside to having a Blackberry (aside from the disconnection with any real people because you are addicted to your phone) is that you butt dial everyone. Particularly anyone with a name that starts with "P." For me, this means my butt continually calls my grandfather (Pa for short) in the car, walking to work, or at the bar. I'm not too worried considering he never has his cell phone on (why he even has one I don't know), but I'm sure he's listened to many muffled conversations about hair products, daily gossip, and counseling sessions with heartbroken friends.
Personally, I can spot a butt dial from a mile away. Because my name starts with an "A," it's pretty common for me to get a few a week. I typically let it roll to voice mail if it's A) a number I don't recognize, B) a person from high school I haven't talked to in 4+ years, or C) an old coworker.
Aside from everyone's multi-talented dialing derrieres, I've received numerous accidental texts, which I like to call "butt-texts." This is a talent I haven't quite mastered myself. A few weeks ago, a friend sent me a text that was clearly not meant for me. It's too bad it didn't make it to the actual recipient because I think it was an attempt to flirt. Don't worry, it wasn't quite a Brett Favre or Tony Parker text. Clearly uninterested in this kind of discussion, I kindly sent a reply letting him know I received his message. I know he was embarrassed because he quickly said it was a joke text to a buddy (yeah right). I know he was embarrassed; however, it was definitely worth the stomach ulcer I got from laughing so hard.
In the words of Ryan Seacrest, "please dial carefully." I know you do not wish to send me your dirty texts, drunk walks home or cry sessions with your boyfriends. It's nothing personal because, frankly, I enjoy them. I just want to save you the embarrassment. Control your butt.
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