Mission Impossible: My Smart Phone
I’ve got a new mission impossible: My smart phone. Rather, figuring out how to work it.
Last year sometime- or maybe it was three years ago, I don’t know- my BFF told me about some app she’d installed on her phone and how it was changing her life.
It was one that mapped her sleep, if I recall. She has to put her phone on her pillow, hope that she doesn’t knock it to the floor in her sleep, and then she checks it when she wakes up in the morning so she can wonder what in hell she does at night.
Of what use is information about our sleep patterns AFTER we wake up?
“I see I had to get up three times to pee last night. Interesting. And this spike in the graph shows a possible break in. I’m glad they didn’t wake me.”
Of what use is the information WHILE you’re sleeping? This has had the effect of reminding me of Santa Claus, who sees us while we’re sleeping and knows when we’re awake. We could just ask him how we slept.
Why didn’t he call the cops if there was a burglar and tell them someone was waking us up?
Keeping an eye on Santa would be the only reason I can think of to have this sleeping app. At least I’d know someone was keeping an eye on me. Let’s develop a Santa app.
I told my friend I didn’t have any apps, because I use a flip phone. A phlip phone can phit in your pocket. You can drop it, and there’s a good chance it won’t be destroyed. It might come apart in four different pieces, but the screen won’t shatter, because it’s only two inches big. I had no internet on that phone, and basically just used it for the reason God created Phone: To make and receive phone calls.
She told me I had to ‘get with the times’ or I’d be ‘left behind’. Left behind in the RappTure.
I kind of miss my little phone. Another friend told me I belonged in a museum when I told him I had a flip phone, and as chance would have it, I’d just been in a museum the day before! The Lost City museum, full of archeological dig findings. That be me.
Cue the horror movie music and a Creeping Man Sneaking up on someone:
A few days ago, my hubby brought home a Smarty Pants phone for me to use.
I still haven’t figured out how to answer it. It says ‘Swipe any icon’ when it rings. So my hand is flailing at the screen and failing to make contact with whatever genie lives inside this thing, and who designates who I get to talk to.
Swipe an icon? Maybe it means I should steal the Taj Mahal? The Taj would help me answer my phone? Finally, just before the caller hangs up, my phone answers and I get to talk to them.
I watched a Mission Impossible movie right after I got the phone. Tom Cruise answered his phone without a hitch at the end of the movie to get his new assignment.
Right then and there, I gave up my plans to join a clandestine organization. I’d be swiping at my phone in vain, sweat beading my brow, and miss the call for the ‘mission’! We would all be toast. Toast!
Last night, I had the chance to make a YouTube video of an epic brawl that would go viral for sure, and make us all rich. But, I couldn’t figure out the record option on my phone.
I had called the police on our neighbors- the ones who moved in recently for the express purpose of devaluing the street, according to my Lousy Neighbor and Reduced Home Value app. They have what appears to be a druggie son who regularly throws tantrums outside at the top of his voice, with all the requisite obscenities, and other aberrations of behavior.
I don’t understand taking drugs that make you mad. I might consider taking ones that make me happy, but even that has its downside. Get too happy and you forget to brush your teeth.
At any rate, the men in tan showed up fairly soon. This is not always the case, but perhaps I’m getting the volume discount.
They questioned the young man who was still outside carrying on and who’d made the moronic decision to cross the street to our house and get in my hubby’s face because my hubby requested he stop his yelling. Drug Boy began to berate the police, who predictably enough, took exception to that, and cuffed him. His cohorts stood around berating them and us, too.
Because asking the police to intervene when you’re threatened, and your peace is egregiously destroyed, makes you a bad guy.
Listening to the whole thing and watching three cop cars and six cops try to herd morons in the pitch dark was fascinating. Drug Boy was crying and banging his head on the hood of the police car, screaming so loud he lost his voice, which was nice. His friends sounded like protestors at a sit-in: “You didn’t read him his rights! Fuck the police!”
Strangely enough, Drug Boy kept saying this to us and anyone else who bothered to listen: “It’s only ten o’clock on a Wednesday! I have a right to do what I want!”
So guess what my new meme is?
Morons are comforting in that they always shoot themselves in the foot. You can count on it. There’s comfort in that. An intelligent person might surprise you, but a moron can be counted upon to be a moron, first, last, and always.
But, I can’t show it to you on my smart phone.
24 thoughts on “Mission Impossible: My Smart Phone”
Of course, once Drug Boy comes to court in his suit, tie, and gold rim glasses, he will say he and his friends were outside that night having a prayer meeting. And then, Crazy Lady Neighbor came out screaming about Satanic Worship and called the cops. “We were just mad because she defamed Jesus.”
This would not surprise me, Counselor. In fact, it has started already. The neighbor next door to them asked Don if he’d called the cops on him. They’re trying to get him on their side. He wasn’t even there! Haha! Don brought something home to me for protection. I’ll email you what it is.
Rap Ture, he shakes his head land marvels (not the comic book).
Isn’t that cute? I thought of it as soon as she told me I’d be ‘left behind’. Haha!
and, not land
Splendid as usual my Love. I didn’t think I would be able to find humor dark or otherwise in the a fore mentioned incident , much less laugh.
But to my surprise you have done it again and lifted my spirits and made me laugh about the stupid,angry and inane happenings in life.
I bow to your greater humor and wisdom.
I leave you with my love and gratitude just for being you and sharing your life with me. :>}
Kisses, kisses! There’s humor in almost everything. Us Jews know that, right?
Now that’s an interesting situation… don’t count on me for tech support, though; I started to operate these smartphone thingies when I was 15, and all I know I’ve learned through trial and error, unlike my fellow millenials, who were born knowing how those work.
The neighbor incident though… Until a minute a go I thought I had obnoxious neighbors… now I want to bake them a chocolate cake. We have never had much problem with them, except for the arseholes that keep burning garbage in open spaces. Sigh. We can’t count on the firemen to help us out with that.
Oh, and Shakti who art certainly lurking around here: Have you ever heard about “saudade”? Because that’s hou I feel right now.
Shakti pops up now and then. I love hearing from her. She’s working hard.
Yep, you should bake good neighbors a cake, and to their look of surprise, just say “Thank you for being normal.” This happens when houses become rentals. Anyone might move in. The people after these people might be worse! It might turn into the Wild West around here! Just slap another revolver in my hand when one is empty, Senor Perozo!
Hah! I live just next to a small condo that used to mostly host students that come over here for university. It’s mostly empty now for some reason. The only inhabited appartament in our immediate proximity is occupied by an old lady that sleeps during the day and drinks hard at night. Every now and then she reminds us of her presence with loud, intermittent noise.
Oh, and here’s your revolver madam! I’ll have my musket at hand; Mimi and Kiki are seeing that it’s properly loaded and ready to fire.
OMG. I remember us talking about Mimi and Kiki. What WAS that? You’d better make sure that old lady next door isn’t me.
Alfredo, ‘suadade’ is a word I have been looking for since forever! It’s my Favorite Word now (the pronunciation is too good). It’s mutual Alfredo. I missed you when I saw this!
And oh, I just want you to know that she (my sis) was right to do what she did. Nothing against you, obviously. It’s just me. Again, I expect you to understand this like many other cryptic things I say. You know I wrote the most depressing and cringeworthy poem of my life after what prevailed!? I will refrain from posting it. Duh. Hope you are doing well.
Gigi, flip phone? FLIP PHONE!?? *snorts*
Both of you are such noobs! Like mother, like son.
Now I feel like worshipping my neighbours and crowning them with laurel wreaths. Sigh.
Hope you are doing well!
Shakti, I’ll make sure Senor P comes back and reads this comment. I hope you’re well, and quit snorting at my fone!
Hello, Shakti! I must’ve been checking this post like every five minutes for a few days now. I’m glad to hear from you.
I saw that video too, it also made me miss you. And yes, I understand. In the end, I do believe this will be for the better. It takes what it takes.
And I refuse to believe even the remote possibility that a poem of yours can be cringeworthy, based on my previous experience. I respect your decision not to share it, but I’m confident that it is at least as wonderful as the others. Oh, and by the way, Gigi agreed to publish our story! I’ll finish it soon enough. I said I’d write a poem too, and I will, after that.
As the Magister would say, I’m doing as well as possible with Trump as president. I do hope that you are fine as well, Shakti.
P.S.: it seems that I, Gigi and Brandon should form the Noob Gang as a branch of the Bottom Writers.
Here’s his reply, Shakti. Can’t wait to publish the story!
GIGIII!!!!!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCHHHH!!!! THIS MEANS A LOTTTTT!!!!! :* :*
Alfredo, I am glad to hear you’re doing ‘well’ 😛
You really don’t have to write the poem.
He posted two freaking videos in a day.
And you should listen to these!!
And oh can you do me a favour? Can you tell Gigi, Michelle P. Sandner and Emily Hughs what happened? I, umm – ok I don’t know how to put this in a better way – blocked them.
Alfredo, I’ll let you take it from here.
Ohh, thank you Shakti. Thank you thank you thank you
I’d already listened to The Halfman’s song, and it’s amazing! And I love, *love* Timbers & Wind. I had nearly forgotten those, and John.
And, I will. I understand the gravity of the task you are trusting me with, so I’ll do my best.
You are very brave ditching your flip for a swipe. Your beginning operating woes sound familiar. A friend of mine (quite a bit older than you) is still learning hers and the stress level leads to many glasses of wine, I hear. A young relative offered me her “old” smart phone, with all personal stuff erased, last summer but I refused since I could find no apps for accomplishing household and gardening chores. Have you found one for “disappearing” neighbors?
I have not! If only, Ms. R. I need wine, most definitely. I did not choose to get rid of my flip. Modern technology has been THRUST upon me! My friend told me there are ‘tutorials’ to learn about our phone. Tutorials. For a phone.
Tutorials are not to be knocked – especially ones on internet! I am into how to use a hair roll, do home hiit, make black bean hummus, clean swimming pool grouting underwater and decrypt Sunday Times crossword puzzles. I could not survive without them, living alone without a brilliant man to advise me (he he).
These brilliant men are at work advising everyone else! Ha!
I know- a friend hurt her back and she’s been watching them for McKenzie exercises and learning all about the back. They’re great. I’m just impatient.
I got an Amazon Echo. Alexa, who lives inside of my interactive speaker, has trouble controlling her volume. It’s because every audio she streams comes from a different source, so it’s not her fault.
But I’m sure my neighbors wonder who moved, in as I yell at Alexa. Alexa ! Turn it down! Alexa! Turn it down!
Alexa and I have frequent spats. Right now she is hearing me say her name and she keeps saying “I don’t know that! I don’t know that!”
Haha! The police will show up on domestic abuse calls. I refuse to have any voice in my house that sound thirty years younger and who’s a know it all. My hubby has already had a spat with Great Pal Shirley. Men don’t want to believe anyone who says “Don’t take that exit.”