Fun with Phone Books

Yesterday the telephone book dude delivered a phone book in a plastic bag to my door step. What did I do with it? I picked it up and immediately put it in the recycling bin. That way I’m not completely wasting the four trees it took to make it.

Sometimes Frank tries to make a case for keeping the phone book: “What if the electricity’s out and we can’t use the internet to look up a number?”

First of all, we don't even have a phone! And second of all, if the electricity goes out I guess I'll just use my cell phone because every number I need is in there.

So yesterday as I was lugging the phone book to the recycle bin, I started wondering when those telephone book fools would give up. They’re always worried about WHICH book we’re using—the yellow one, the big one, the one that lets our fingers do the walking. Hello? Our fingers aren’t walking anymore! They’re clicking! That’s what you should be worried about, telephone book makers.

I haven’t always been anti-phone book. I used to rely on it as a source for information, as a step stool and even for fun. Yes, fun! My friend Jaime and I had this whole game we played with the phone book. We called it Wickskiwicks. I’ll go over the complex rules of the game with you so you can play it at home (if you still have a phone book):

So Jaime and I would be on the phone with each other and we’d each have the Friendswood phone book open:
Jaime: Mr. and Mrs. H. Sterner
Elsa: Um…okay, I found it! 482-1526
Jaime: That’s right! Now you go.

That’s it. That’s the game. We called it Wickskiwicks (pronounced Wicks-kee-wicks) because that was the longest and funniest name in the phone book.

I don’t know which is sadder, the fact that we played Wickskiwicks for hours (and it’s possibly the lamest game ever invented) or that future generations will have to play Wickskiwicks on verizonsuperpages.com.

Right about now I’m regretting tossing my phone book though. My Halloween candy is up in a really high cabinet and I can't reach it.