I woke up recently and my beloved cell phone had a message for me. It said, “$#$@ you.” Then it rolled over and died. For good. I tried performing CPR but it was too late.
I LOVED my old cell phone. It let me call people. It let me text people. That was it. That’s all I wanted. I didn’t ask much and we had a great relationship.
I HATE my new “smart” phone. Now, not only do I waste time playing Doodle Jump, and downloading apps–but it continually lets me know I’m not nearly as smart as this stupid little phone. Here are the top 5 reasons I hate my “smart” ass phone:
#1– I can’t answer the damn thing: So, I’m on my phone, trying to figure out Words With Friends (especially hard when you have no friends) and my phone starts ringing. I’m pushing all kinds of buttons, trying to slide the screen, whatever it takes. Nothing. Can’t figure out how to answer the *%**#@ phone.
#2–The sticky screen: You’d think I sweat maple syrup from my fingers. Either that, or I have a serious ear wax problem that’s gone undiagnosed for years. My phone’s screen is constantly attracting stickiness. And if I try to clean the screen, I turn on all kinds of apps that I had no intention of opening. Or I call China.
#3–The keyboard: I never realized my fingertips were so freaking huge. I take my cucumber-size fingers, and dumbly punch at numbers on my phone (leaving a sticky residue), and never quite spelling out texts the way I’d like. I’m sick of typing, “Wher ar your meettinh mr?” Or sending half-finished texts because I accidentally hit send.
#4–The ultra-sensitive screen: Only teenage girls are more sensitive than my phone. If I’m trying to tap a specific app (see “cucumber-size fingers”), I’ll punch everything around it, bringing up all kinds of garbage. Or, I’ll push directly on the button–and it lights up, meaning, yes, it was tapped. No response. Just a slow b-l-i-n-k as the phone shuts itself off. And I often find that my cheek is playing Angry Birds while I’m trying to talk to my sister.
#5–No charge: No, I don’t mean my phone was free. I mean my phone goes through power like a Kardashian goes through plastic surgeons. My phone holds a charge like Lindsey Lohan holds her liquor. Not well. I feel like I’ve purchased a ’90s Giga-Pet that needs to fed, loved and nurtured 24/7.
Maybe one day, I’ll fall in love with my phone. Maybe one day, my phone will accidentally fly off the nearest overpass. Maye one day, I’ll just take my big fingers and buy a rotary phone.