Wreck-tal

I fancy myself as a novice inventress.  (See?  I just invented that word!)  And as such, from time to time, I like to share with the population of Planet Internet my newest and brightest ideas.  You must understand that I have about 20 of these ideas swimming inside my cranium at any given moment.  But this one is a doozie.  I mean, I have given it ALOT of thought.  It is the perfect hybrid of 3 parts of the grease fire I call my life:  My Spouse, Coaching, and Pharmaceuticals.  But every good invention needs a back story, right?  (Nod head.  Thank You.)

Modern technology is wonderful and enriches and de-complicates (I just invented another word!) our hectic lives.  I love modern technology.  I embrace modern technology.  But, when it comes to my husband's cell phone.  I detest modern technology.  Why?  Because a coach has so many reasons, real and imagined, to be on a cell phone it is ridiculous.  His activities include, but are not limited to:

• Calling other coaches to seek sympathy for a loss/ego plumping after a win.
• Calling other coaches to discuss strategy.
• Calling his friends with whom he played football in college to discuss strategy.
• Texting all of the above individuals.
• Sharing jokes.
• Exchanging photos of god-knows-what, that to the recipient and sender are hilariously comical, but to the rest of the human race are essentially, well, stupid.  (And that is sugar-coating it.)

If the conversations were deep, insightful or possessed an ounce of brevity, I would not complain.  On the contrary, however, these exchanges are composed of: 

"Coach, Coachie, Coacher, blah blah blah, blahdie blah blah, 6 yards blah, 3 technique blahdie blahdie blah, blah our ass kicked blah blah blah.  Later, man."

And they go on FOREVER.  Ice ages have come and gone in the time it takes to finish one of these calls.

"Coachie, Coach, Coacher, you wanna go get a dodo burger in about an hour?....Oh, those birds have gone extinct since I started this phone call?  Damn."

Plus, on most occasions, the call is being made to a person that he just saw 15 minutes ago.

"Hey, Coacher, Coachie, Coach, I just drove by your house!.....Yeah.  It seems to be located on the exact same street as it was yesterday!....I know!!  Crazy, huh?!?"

Furthermore, they always occur in the greatest concentration on Saturday and Sunday, when a coach actually gets to spend a modicum of time with his family before the beast we call "football" takes him back on Sunday afternoon.

After a while this starts to grate on one's nerves.  And I have long fantasized about what I would like to do with that instrument of evil we call the "cell phone."  Yet, I don't want to cause Mr. Coach a whole lot of pain, but I do want to get my point across and I do want the phone to disappear.  So, without further ado, I now present my invention:

SUPPOSI-PHONE

The Suppository-Shaped Cell Phone

*These statements have not been evaluated by the FDA.  Reuse not recommended.  Data plan not required.  See your healthcare professional if itching or burning persists.

Mark my made-up words, this is a big day in the world of inventiosity.