So, yesterday, I mentioned how I previously wanted an iPhone, but then realized that I didn’t really need it after all (after interacting with some of the less fortunate people in Afghanistan.)
The post was SUPPOSED to show you how I learned my lesson about wanting unnecessary things. (It’s wrong of me to be greedily longing for an iPhone while faced with the poverty of the ‘stan.)
I discovered my mother read my post yesterday, but instead of interpreting the post as my learning a lesson, she interpreted it as a “secret” message … she thinks I’m asking her for an iPhone. (It’s my birthday soon.)
For the record, I’m old. Not Geritol-old, but I’m old enough to know that parachute pants were the shiznit, and I’m old enough to remember when the Fat Boys were the most hardcore, gangster rappers alive. (If you don’t know who the Fat Boys are, Google it, young’uns!) I’m certainly past the age where I care about birthdays. (Remember when you were a little kid, and you used to leave “hints” about what you would like for your birthday or Christmas?) My mother, to whom I will forever be her little boy, thinks yesterday’s blog post is my little way of dropping a hint to her.
Mom: If you’re reading (and I know you are.) I’m not asking for an iPhone. My post yesterday was SERIOUSLY intended to make readers think about what is really important in life.
iPhones are nice. But peace, security, food and clothing are much more important.