Actually, it IS Rocket Science



Things fall apart

So over the weekend my cell phone came to a sputtering halt and pretty much died.  Like, no-time-to-even-get-it-on-life-support died.  It went pretty quickly, so I believe there was little-to-no suffering, but there’s still a great sadness in the family.  The phone lasted about 6 years, which by electronic standards means that it was about to beat a world record, but when you’ve had such a loyal friend, a friend who has endured multiple falls from high elevations and still been your one and only companion to wake up with you in the early mornings, you tend to feel a loss.

That or I’m just that perfect combination of cheapness and that sonofabitch who I’ve come to affectionately refer to as “The Laze.”

I’m the kind of person who wears their shoes until they get massive holes in them because they’re my “favorites” although they offer no arch support anymore.

It kind of came out of nowhere.  One day the ringer just stopped working.  Just stopped.  I’ve been having trouble with my cell reception recently, but that really has nothing to do with the hardware.  It puzzled me.  So I went to the store to get it looked at, as well as check out my reception, once again.  The greeter listened to my story and asked: “How long have you had that phone; it looks like a pretty old model.  Probably time to replace it.”  I shuffled my feet together and begrudgingly answered, “Yeah, I know.  But I reeeeallly like this phoooonnnne.”  Which already marked defeat because I know I’m outta the game when I start whining.

But I didn’t do anything with it.  Once the person behind the desk wrapped his stethoscope around his neck dramatically and avoided eye contact while telling me my phone’s outlook wasn’t good, I asked to take it home and let it live out it’s life without tubes or needles.

I’m the kind of person who will get a papercut on their tongue from licking a number of envelopes to save a paper towel, and to avoid soiling a dish rag for something like “just another 17 envelopes.”

Then one day later I realized that my speakerphone just gave out.  It’s pretty much like putting my phone on mute, which happens to be THE EXACT OPPOSITE of what I’m asking of it at that time.  But I still thought that maybe it was something that would repair itself, no big deal, so that I could save a trip to the cell store and possibly be thrown into a new plan that would up the rates.  That was last Friday.

I’m the kind of person who risks food poisoning by eating refrigerated items that are sitting on the fence between “just okay” and “will curdle the entire contents of your stomach” rancid because I don’t want to spend the energy or gas going to the store just for a new bottle of coffee creamer.

Then, while at a local cafe the other day, I decided to check my blog from my phone on a whim (yeah right.  This thing has become the equivalent of my own West Highland Terrier puppy {the cutest kind of puppy there is, DUH}.  I can’t get enough of playing with it).  I was looking through some previously made comments when my phone ERASED the damn post.  Just.  Goodbye!  Hope that wasn’t your magnum opus, asshole!  That’s when it became less of “just a drag” and more like a vindictive ex who still had your email account information and began sending all your guy friends hate mail and all your bosses porn spam. And do you know what I did?  Here’s a hint:

I’m the kind of person who febreezes the SHIT out of their favorite shirt because they don’t want to wear out the fabric by washing it so often.

Nothing.  I did nothing.  Because some part of me still held on to the notion that I might wake up the next day and something inside the device would miraculously heal itself.  I’d like to say I’ve seen stranger things.

But I haven’t.

So apart from the reception, I’m sitting here yesterday wondering how much longer it’s going to be before I have to bring Old Yeller into the barn when I get a phone call from a friend, who asked why I hadn’t been returning her text messages and that she was beginning to worry about me.

Text messages.

What text messages?

Holy shit.  Now my phone’s gone HAL 9000.

So to all my friends who may have called or sent a message to me in the past few days, I apologize.  I can just say that I’m truly interested in any funny quips or observations you’ve had.  I’m in the process of finally taking care of this shit.  And that I’m really not an asshole.  I mean, relatively speaking, obviously.

I mean, you are talking to the kind of person who opts out of attending a birthday party and taking pleasure in the sheer enjoyment of their friends company because they know they can’t afford a present and are too embarrassed to make up some lame-ass excuse for how sadly piss-can-poor they are.

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Comments

  1. Scanned this whole blog only to be disappointed there was no mention of replacing your old POS with a new iPhone.

    Sigh.

    | Reply Posted 6 years, 2 months ago
  2. Sorry, misread your comment at first- listen, friend, whenever you’re ready to sponsor me or find someone to do the same and allow me the funds to get an iphone, please don’t hesitate! 🙂

    | Reply Posted 6 years, 2 months ago


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