I might not mean what I say when I text

I love texting.

Brain Farce is an alleged humor column written by Scott Adamson. It comes out basically whenever he feels like writing it. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

For those of us who’d simply rather not go to all the trouble of actually speaking to another human being, it has become an invaluable tool of modern communication. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I actually “spoke” to anyone on my phone.

It’s not that I don’t like people, it’s just that I don’t like talking to people.

But – in a bit of a disconnect – I much prefer using voice text when I have an impersonal conversation.

The only problem is that sometimes things get lost in translation, which makes me wonder if I don’t speak clearly or if the artificial intelligence inside my iPhone isn’t as intelligent as it claims to be.

Case in point – last week my wife and I were talk-texting over the phone and I was joking about how we needed interim decorations between Halloween and Christmas.

I suggested putting a horn of plenty on the table in honor of Thanksgiving.

Only problem is “horn of plenty” came out “whore and plain tea” in the text. I’m pretty sure that sentence has never, ever come out of my mouth.

Besides, since I live in the south, I’d be talking about sweet tea whether a whore was involved or not.

Another time I talk-texted that I was headed to the hardware store to get “Gorilla Glue” but it spelled out “girls and glue.”

Again, something I’d never say … it’s something Keith Morrison would say on Dateline.

And more recently I was leaving a press conference and emailed her to let her know that it was business as usual, except, “A guy was flatulent.”

Oddly, flatulent came out “Argyle get joint.”

A less learned woman would’ve thought I had gone to a press conference where a sock was trying to get high.

Of course there are less extreme examples.

We have a cat named “Bane” but it always comes out “Bain” on talk-text. My wife knows who I’m talking about, so the spelling is inconsequential.

And it’s not like Bane (or Bain, if you prefer), would get offended if he happened to glance over at the phone and see that his name was misspelled.

I doubt even he knows how to spell it … he has enough trouble pronouncing it.

Now, I’ve been told by some younger people that talk-texting is not held in high-regard and honestly, I didn’t realize that.

It just seems so much more convenient than looking down and typing away – especially if you’re driving and trying to extract the cork from the wine bottle you have situated between your legs.

Yet regardless of whether you type or talk into your phone, there’s always the chance of dialing what used to be a “wrong number.”

During football season I texted with coaches quite a bit. And often it would be moments before or after I had been in contact with my wife.

As I was walking into the office I texted my wife and said, “Made it safely to work. Love you!

Except that message accidentally went to a coach.

Fortunately, it turns out he loves me, too – even more than a whore with plain tea.