The Blog Post About Phones That’s Exactly As Good As An Ambien Tablet For Putting You To Sleep

Well, today was one of those days when what I REALLY wanted to do was this:

44748812ef1cf2269249a758bd805241I wanted to put on yoga pants and download some form of INSTAGRAM FOR DUMMIES, so that I could figure out all the technical stuff, like WHAT DOES THIS LITTLE ORANGE DOT NEXT TO THIS ICON MEAN NOW?

(Have I ever mentioned that my iPhone is 98.7% more phone than I am capable of using?  Or even understanding?)

(If not, rest assured that INDEED!  It is.  This is what is oftentimes referred to as THAT’LL COME BACK TO HAUNT YOU, because I remember when my mother couldn’t figure out the CD player when they first came out.  If my recollection is still stellar, I probably slapped my forehead and said something like, “Oh, my gosh!  You put the CD into the machine, snap the lid shut, and DO YOU SEE THIS BUTTON LABELED PLAY?  Hit it, Mom!  Hit it, and you’ll be rocking out in no time!”)

(Because Tammy Wynette and the Statler Brothers made some pretty great CDs for rocking out to in the late ’80s.)

(And now my time has come for me to throw my arms up in the air and ask the boy for help with my phone, because SON, IT IS OVERWHELMING YOUR MAMA TO THE POINT THAT SHE IS UNABLE TO COOK THE SUPPER THIS EVENING, AND SHE NEEDS A NERVE PILL!)

(So, children… do not laugh at your parents when they are in the throes of a technically-induced panic attack, because electronics are going to change, and you’re going to age, and eventually you’ll be asking your own kids HOW DO I GET THE HOLOGRAM PHONE TO CAST THE IMAGE OF GRANDPA, WHILE HE TALKS TO US, ON THE TABLE LIKE R2D2 DID IN THAT OLD MOVIE?)


… today was not a day for the yoga pants and the uselessness, because I had to teach PE, and our school’s dress code calls for something a little more zippy than black, stretchy pants, paired with an old T-shirt from college.  I actually had to be a productive member of society today, and teach small children the joys that can be found in a burpee.

(For the record, there are NO joys in a burpee; you just have to pretend and try to hype the kids up on DO A JUMPING JACK, DO A PUSHUP, DO A JUMPING JACK, DO A PUSHUP anyway.)

And let’s just go back to my phone for a moment.

Yesterday, it kept downloading 150 email messages, every fifteen minutes.  The iPhone would scream at me, “Look!  You have 150 new emails!  Do something with them!”  And I WOULD do something with them, because they were all garbage emails from MONTHS AND MONTHS AGO, so I deleted and deleted and deleted.  And then the next time I would look at the screen on my phone, there would be the little red flag beside my email icon, announcing, “Guess what?  Guess who has 150 new messages again?”  This went on all day long, until what I really wanted to do was throw my phone through a glass window, just to hear the satisfying sound of something shattering.

And then my Word Chums game froze up and kicked me out.

And then Facebook froze and locked me out.

And then Instagram told me that I should consider putting my pictures onto a new device.

And then the camera flashed a text box at me that said, “UNABLE TO TAKE PICTURE.”

And then my icon for text messaging lit up, announcing that I had six unread text messages, and the answer was NO.  No, I did not, and WHERE ARE THESE PHANTOM MESSAGES HIDING?

And that’s pretty much when I wanted to just sit down in a corner and rock a little bit, while I cried, because THAT IPHONE IS THREE MONTHS OLD, GIVE OR TAKE, AND WHY WAS IT TREATING ME LIKE A CRIMINAL?

(And honestly?  Do any of you even CARE about my iPhone turmoil yesterday?  Because I’m not sure that I would share a deep sympathy with someone else, if they were to say, “Well, the Android acted up yesterday and locked me out of Facebook.”  I’d pretty much pat that person on the back, say, “There, there; it’ll be alright,” and then I would’ve asked them if they wanted to go for coffee.  The end.)

But really, I wouldn’t have been so worried about my phone, had it not been BASICALLY BRAND NEW.  Except… not so brand new that Apple would really care about me any more, if I were to drive it through their front doors and say, “This shall be replaced, or I’m pulling my stock in your company.”

(Why am I even still talking about my phone?)

Anyway, the ending to this long-winded blog post about my phone’s need for a life support system is that Hubs came home from work at 9:30 last night (Because he had bigger eggs to fry with some client’s server than his wife’s phone problems.), and he looked at my phone.

And then he said, “You have 4 trillion gigowatts in pictures and videos on here!  Your phone has ZERO memory left, and WHY CAN’T YOU BE A RESPONSIBLE DELETER AFTER YOU HAVE DOWNLOADED STUFF ONTO THE BIG MAC?  Also, you aren’t deleting anything off the email server, so it just keeps reloading it.”

So really, that was the issue.  My phone’s memory was exhausted, and it just needed to lie down for a while, because HOW CAN I OPEN THE FACEBOOK WHEN ALL OF THESE PICTURES ARE IN MY WAY, AND I HAVE TO SPEND MY TIME RESURRECTING EMAILS THAT YOU WON’T ATTEND TO?!

It’s exactly how I feel most of the time, too.


Y’all have a perfectly lovely Wednesday evening, and don’t forget:  The key to being a responsible iPhone user is understanding the limits to your phone’s memory, and treating it with the same respect you’d show the Queen Mother.

Either that, or just spend the extra dollars necessary to get some memory in a phone that’s big enough to hold all of NASA’s data.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *