Nothing says it Like Gift Basket

For lack of a better topic, I’m posting a conversation I had with my sister via texting today.

Sister:  I gots the bus pass.

Me:  I love you.  I just kissed my phone because I love you so-o-o much!

Sister:  Um……………..

Me:  Now I’m licking it.  It’s pleasantly tingly.

Sister:  I’mma cut my pass in half, grossie

Me:  It’s my pass, baby, as soon as I cough up the forty smackaroos I owe you.  I’m gonna take that pass, I’m gonna own that pass, and then I’m gonna lick that pass. 

Sister:  You’re yucky

Me:  I don’t think I can pick my nose with the pass but I’ll give it my best shot.

I’ve never much liked texting.  If I must do it I tend to follow the basic rules of grammar, which can sometimes be taken the wrong way.  I suppose it’s the equivalent of going on a first date and addressing the other person as “thou” as in, “Art thou not famished, sir?  Forsooth the waiter is so wretchedly slow, I fear we shall never attain our sustenance.  Do not leave him a tip unless thou happens’t to have some bat droppings on thee.” 

It is so easy for texting to be confusing or boring.  If you ever wish to text me, here are some rules that might keep either of those from happening:

1.  No sarcasm, unless you indicate it with the sarcasm icon, which I am inventing (I’m thinking a tiny rhinoceros).

2.  No playing 20 questions or truth or dare.

3.  Easy on the emoticons.

4.  Keep exclamation points to a minimum.

But none of these rules will do any good if a texting conversation drags on like a small boy dragging a dog carcass to his elementary school.  Certain boundaries must be set by someone clever and possessing an amazing nose.  I am that person (obviously) and here they are:

1-2 texts = Succinct and to the point.  You can’t go wrong here.

3-6 texts = Pushing it a bit, but still likely to be reasonably interesting.

7-10 texts = Hard to keep it interesting at this stage.

11-18 texts = Only comedians and the Professionally Interesting should venture into this territory.

19-27 texts = Unless you are instantly shedding a pound every time you send a text, you have no excuse to be here.  Trespassers will be shot.

28 and up = If you ever make it this high, please send me your address.  I want to thank you with a special gift basket, which I have named “hatchet.”

Or was it the other way around?