November 4, 2009
Cell phones are an awesome invention. Heck, I will even insert a “freakin'” in there and say that cell phones are a freakin’ awesome invention, and that is huge because I don’t just hand out my freakin’s left and right. I am now at the point where I don’t know how anyone ever lived without a cell phone. Remember that episode of “Little House on the Prairie” where Laura was up on the mountain crying about her brother and Pa and Mr. Edwards were looking for her? A cell phone would have rocked in that situation. Or that time on “The Brady Bunch” where Cindy and Bobby were lost in the Grand Canyon? Ok, they probably wouldn’t have been able to get a signal, but they could have at least had a shot! Nowadays I think of many situations that would suck if I didn’t have my phone. What if your kid got sick at school and you weren’t home? What if you were lost or your car broke down? What if your husband was running late and you were worried about him? (well, my husband hasn’t figured this one out yet, but I do have faith that someday he will) I am also super-thankful that when Ethan is a teenager he will have a cell phone so I can keep tabs on him, and I am super-FREAKIN’-thankful that when I was a teenager I didn’t, because I would not have gotten away with nearly as many things as I managed to get away with. So to sum up: Cell phone’s are good. BUT, as you will soon learn, cell phones plus Patti are bad.
Every cell phone I have ever owned has gone bad. Not turned to a life of drugs and prostitution bad, but not-working-right bad. I can’t even count how many I have had over the years, starting with the giant fore-arm sized phone with the 3-foot antennae circa 1994, but there have been many. Out of those many, each and every one of them has gone bad. A few of them have stopped ringing. A few have freaked out so I can hear my caller’s voice but they can’t hear me. Some have decided to constantly turn off whenever the heck they want to and refuse to turn back on. One decided to just start making a psychotic, fingernails on a chalkboard noise for no apparent reason, while just hanging out in my purse. One was constantly taking pictures of the inside of my purse, so that all day, wherever I went I just heard “clik! click! click” and my phone was full of photos of tampons and hand sanitizer. The list goes on and on.
This year my husband, in what was either a drug-induced moment of confusion or just a natural moment of complete and utter stupidity and memory loss, decided to surprise me with the new iphone (and this was just weeks after I lost the ipod he surprised me with the year before). The iphone is great. I can catch up on my email while in line at the grocery store. I can watch Dexter while in my doctor’s waiting room. It works as an ipod as well, so I can listen to my tunes in the car. It also has some amazing apps. There is one that tells you how much any house is worth, so you can be a total busy body and talk about all your neighbors’ estimated net worth. One tells you the artist and name of any song on the radio (which is how I found out the disturbing and life-altering news that I like a Lady Gaga song while innocently shopping in American Eagle). Unfortunately though, there is not one that opens your garage door. I can tell you this for sure because I stood in my driveway and tried for 5 long, profanity-filled minutes to get it to work, mainly because I am an admitted moron and I thought I had my opener in my hand. Oh yeah…I can make calls on it too! There is, however, one problem with my iphone. It calls people all by itself.
The first time this happened, I was hanging out with a girlfriend, on what was most-likely a PMS day for me. My husband was getting on my nerves, leaving underwear lying around, making man messes everywhere, etc… and I felt the need to vent, and she had her own man issues, so we went to town. We spent a long time discussing the pros and cons of husband’s, and on that particular day, the pro column was pretty empty. Anyway, I got back to my house later, and noticed that my answering machine was blinking so I hit “play” and it was our entire conversation! Since my machine wasn’t set for a time limit for messages, it filled the entire thing. Thankfully, I made it home before Steve did! I hit “erase” faster than you can say “men are smelly morons” and I saved myself from what could have been a highly unpleasant evening.
The next time this happened, I was at the movie watching “Inglorious Basterds”. This particular night, my phone decided to call Steve’s parents. Twice. They were not at home for either call, but when they did come home they had 2 interesting messages on their answering machine. Since this movie is totally psycho violent, I imagine that they thought we were being tortured or murdered and were trying to call them for help (which, thankfully we weren’t, because they obviously care too much about going out to dinner than sitting home by the phone waiting for our distress calls).
The third time it happened (Yes, I am so stupid and helpless that it happened again), I was in the car driving Steve’s parents to the airport. On this lovely day, my phone decided to call my mother. Yes, I know. Sooooooooooooo many things could go wrong here. I shudder to think . I mean, I seriously freakin’ SHUDDER! But thankfully Karma was on my side, and I was only talking about my impending hair appointment. Of course my mom thought I was talking to her and couldn’t understand why I wasn’t answering her, so she got fed up and hung up. Then my iphone called her back. I was still talking about my hair ( I am obviously a bit long-winded), and she is on the other end yelling “What are you talking about? What’s happening to your hair? Why won’t you answer me? Stop calling me if you’re not gonna answer me!” Then, hurt and confused, she hung up on me again.
All of these instances were annoying, but none has put as much fear into me as the call to my mother. Not that I ever talk badly about you mom (she is an ubscriber-say to this log-bay). I have absolutely no fear that she could ever hear me saying anything even remotely negative about her at all. No, no, no! I am afraid that she may hear me discussing all of the positive, wonderful, mothery things that she does, and all that adoration will embarrass her. She is easily embarrassed, and I, being an extremely sweet and loving daughter, would never want her to feel that way. Therefore I have finally decided to talk about my iphone problem, with the hope that someone out there can help me stop this crazy phone from constantly trying to ruin my relationships. I seriously think that this phone is out to get me. They say the iphone is smart, and I think they are right. It’s freakin’ smart alright, and it’s got it in for me.
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