Osama? Obama? Enunciate please

My cell is my robotic secretary of state. Whatever state I'm in (right now it feels as though I'm bleeding internally from a nasty cold) I can dial anyone in the world just by saying their name.

Introducing, from my 2006 cellphone, Driving Mode. A great way to amuse yourself and others on the bus or in the Library and Archives Canada ladies' room.

I was collecting toilet paper today to nurse my one eye that hasn't stopped leaking in the past 20 hours, when suddenly a perky woman who I will describe as a fem bot, announced from my bag, "New message from (beep)" and then a man's voice said, "fucker."

I happen to have a friend with a similar name.

There was a snicker from the stall next to mine.

I often rummage through my bag, accidentally hit the driving mode button, and then say fuck. My secretary in a phone will ask politely "Did you say Laura?" Replace 'Laura' with any of the random numbers I keep in my cell phone strictly for journalistic purposes: mental health lines, motels in small-town Saskatchewan and Quebec, editors of newspapers, the U of O psych department. Don't ask me why. Don't ask me why my phone asks me if I'm trying to call a shrink when I yell fuck into my damn handbag.

But there's a bright side. I can tell my phone to call Obama, and it will find names in my contact list to suggest.

That's a snazzy way to wait in line at a club or the psych dept.

That'll be 10 dollars ma'am
(I hold up a finger as I dig through my bag. Five minutes later, after I've retrieved my phone, I sensually hit the side button in front of the bouncer)
"Please enter a command."
Contacts, I say, keeping eye contact with the bouncer.
(bouncer rolls eyes)
"Please enter a name."
Osama Bin Laden
"Did you say... Osama Bin Laden?"
"Yesss."
"Calling."

I can programme numbers under different names. I often get calls from Hillary Clinton and Josh Groban.

Even better is when my phone sets itself to Driving Mode without my knowledge and announces the caller. Trust me, entering endearingly profane names for friends is a surefire way to change your profs' opinions of you in the middle of a class on Spreadsheets.

What is this? Some kind of practical joke? Who put this phone in my handbag. Ha... ha... Her name's not [enter Bond villainess here]. It mispronounced it.

I can't wait for the robotic age.