So having an iPhone is equivalent to the phrase, CAN SOMEONE HAND ME AN EXCEDRIN MIGRAINE TABLET THE SIZE OF A GUINEA PIG, PLEASE?
Except that’s not all the way true, because the texting? Oh my! Texting on the iPhone is as easy as saying, “Yes, ma’am, I’d like the whipped cream on top of the cheesecake.” And playing Words With Friends is smack-down easy, because my games don’t just up and end after the seventh move, like they did on my Android.
The Android which I threw on the floor and shattered.
Android insists that I had a glitch in my phone. I insist that it was just an effort for Hi-Tech America to kill me off with severe, teeth-grinding frustration. My feelings were very similar to those when you see someone in a made-for-TV drama giving in to hypothermia. I just wanted to lay down in the snow and go to sleep and never have to face the fact that my Words With Friends games just quit me unexpectedly with a little zap of static-y sizzle.
I kid you not. Every time the seventh move happened in my WWF games (which do NOT involve sequin-adorned costumes), the person I was playing against would PLUM WIN, whether they were ahead or not. My phone would just suddenly flash a message that says, “Hubs just kicked the snot out of you in seven moves. Yes, he had 12 points, and yes, you had 208 points. Points are irrelevant. Hubs wins.”
And if that doesn’t hand you some kind of disappointment on a thick, Chinet paper plate, I don’t know what does.
Tonight, in an effort to extract a photo off of my iPhone, I first had to beat the phone against the desk and cry out, “Why? Why? Why?” one hundred and six times, because my iPhone wanted to selfishly keep the snapshots to herself. And that’s when I realized that, Sweetheart, you have to REGISTER the iPhone and do everything through iTunes, and why didn’t they tell me this at the cell phone store when I bought it?
Two phone calls to Tyler and two text messages to Pastor John later, and I had pictures off of my phone.
It’s because Hubs is at an IMAX theater tonight, in a city far away, and I wasn’t sure that he’d be overly happy with me if I whispered into my phone, “Listen, honey, I need some tech support, so just go ahead and step into the lobby there for about twenty minutes, so you can talk me through this photo-extraction process before I stand on the deck and launch the phone into the neighbors’ yard and shout things that I’ll regret tomorrow.”
(Secretly? I actually thought about telling Hubs later, “Oh, yeah. Getting setup to yank photos off my phone was a breeze; I’m thinking about becoming an Apple Genius and taking tech support calls in my free time for extra money.”)
(That would have been wrong, right?)
Tonight, the posse and I went to the theater (not an IMAX) to see the new Pirates of the Caribbean flick in 3D.
(I get distracted easily.)
The four of us had a blast. I cut all restraints at the concession stand and said, “Yes, boys; order it all!”
They looked at me like it was April Fool’s Day, and then charged ahead with their orders, before I could change my mind. There were Sour Patch Kids and Swedish Fish and Kit Kat bars and buttery popcorn and 7-Ups and Pepsis everywhere.
And then we settled into our seats for the LONG HAUL, because Pirates is not a short bit of cinematic wonderment.
This movie is every 4th and 5th grade boy’s dream, as it is nothing but one long, heart-stopping, joy-shouting sword fight after another. All three of the boys cheered, while they passed the Swedish Fish bag back and forth. And I’m pretty sure that all three of the boys came away with some ideas for new moves to employ on one another when they’re battling it out with their own swords.
I even filed a few moves with the pirate FLINTLOCK PISTOL away in my mental library, in case I need to use one on my cell phone some day in the future.