My First Big-Boy Phone!

Look at me, all adult and everything! Against my better judgement, my wife finally made me get a "smart" phone.

Feh. I didn't see the need to get rid of my flip phone (a friend said I should just flip my antiquated phone right into the trash). I think my wife got fed up watching me pecking away three times per letter to text, then cursing when I screwed up.

So. First thing I did with my smartphone was get on Snapchat, so I could torture my daughter and nieces via pictures of me with a dog nose or as a hot dog or cat. That's kinda fun. And, as far as I can see, the best usage for a smartphone.

On the downside, I have big, ol' fat fingers and am still punching the wrong letter every time I text. Furthermore, friggin' auto correct makes me type things like "What time should we come ovary?" And the voice application wants to "Kill Mom" instead of calling her. I'm gonna have to watch this phone.

The phone's like a giga-pet (wait... Am I dating myself? Quickly I texted my nieces and asked if they knew what a giga-pet was. They didn't and wanted me to stop bugging them.). But just like a giga-pet, my phone's needy as hell, in constant demand of my attention lest it  die. I have to feed/charge it pretty much every day. Constant alerts, updates, messages, terrifying warnings, and other ominous distractions keeps me scrambling 24-7. It's a full-time job.

It's a whole new world of discomfort. Where does a purseless person keep their giant phone? It won't fit in my pocket. (The one day I crammed my phone in pocket, I had accidentally turned on the flashlight. After an hour of shopping, I finally realized my crotch was glowing.) Don't even get me going on butt-dialing. 

So. What's the advantage of a smartphone? I can find the nearest pancake shop in a jiffy. I suppose I could watch a movie, but, really, who wants to watch a 3" x 4" screen? Granted, it might take the edge off John Malkovich, but still...

The other day, I went to the doctor. While waiting in the office, loud surf music played over the speaker. Much too loud. I said, "Doc, is this the special surf-rock suite?"

She stares at me, then says, "I thought you were playing it." I shook my head. So she tracks down the nurse to yell at her to turn it off, then comes back, and says, "She says it's your phone." Finally, I track the noise down to my coat pocket. Panicking, I couldn't even figure out how to shut it up.

This phone's beating me down.

For the longest time, I've steered clear of diving into the nebulous world of smart phones because I didn't want to become a pod person. I've been to many restaurants where a couple sits across from one another, not talking, but interacting constantly with their phones. Then there're the people walking down the street, head hanging down, nose buried in their phones. It's scary. An epidemic.

Gah! My phone just blurted at me. What now? Dear God, WHAT NOW?

Speaking of all things ominous, my collection of horror tales, Twisted Tales from Tornado Alley, might just distract you from your damn smartphone for a little while. Just sayin'.