Back when I had a regular cell phone, I was all, “Blackberry’s look like talking wallets,” and mocked anyone who ever used one. Because HELLO, WHO TALKS INTO A WALLET? (answer: crazy people, that’s who). Then, I realized I, too, could talk into a wallet, and for the very briefest of time, considered buying a Blackberry, until I realized that I, too, would look like a crazy person.

So I held onto my Dumb Phone and occasionally made calls on it. More often, though, I played Bejeweled.

It wasn’t until Daver decided he needed a second generation iPhone that I realized that I, too, needed one. I wasn’t precisely sure WHY I needed one, but figured I could probably play Bejeweled on a bigger screen (I had a hot pink Razr) which meant that I was most certainly WINNING.

(apologies to Charlie Sheen)

And, if I was stretching, I could say that I was using this Smart Phone to tell me when I’d gone into labor with my daughter – with whom I was heavily pregnant. It was kind of EYE OF THE TIGER.

When I got it home, I marveled at it’s shininess. After all, my Razr was approximately 76372 years old and the screen was half-busted in places, so seeing such a purdy, clean screen was like music to my eyeballs. I promptly imported my email so I could never, ever miss a message about “Increasing Y0ur Pen1$ size,” because, well, obviously: I needed a bigger dick. I was only 787 quintillion million hundred months pregnant, after all.

I waited patiently for the day in which my Smart Phone would tell me I was in labor. I wanted that crotch parasite OUT of me once and for all. And not once, did my Smart Phone say, “Hey, Fuckface, you’re in labor.”

(turns out, I had to be induced, so perhaps my rant is misplaced)

After she was born, though, I hoped that my Smart Phone would be able to say, “Hey Fuckface, the baby’s crying because she’s hungry. Or tired. Or poopy. Or all three.” It didn’t. Not once.

My Smart Phone was officially on notice.

Later, I’d hoped that in addition to being an Angry Birds/Twitter Machine, it would also be able to tell me when I’d forgotten to do something. Like print out boarding passes or pick up my kids from school. Turns out? You have to ENTER that data into some stupid calendar thingy, which is DECIDEDLY not the same as it being SMART.

Then, one day, I tested the fucker out. Was it smart? Was it dumb? Was it a redesigned wallet phone?

So I screamed into it (one never knows if phones are as deaf as my children): “CURE CANCER, MOTHERFUCKER.”

And you know what? It didn’t. It just sat there, blankly, my face reflecting back at me through the smudges on the screen. It didn’t say, “does not compute,” or “you’re an asshole,” or even, “cure it your damn self, Aunt Becky.” No. It just looked at me dumbly, like I hadn’t just given it a task or something.

Fucker.

I’m getting even, though. I’m changing it’s name from “Smart Phone,” to “Angry Birds Machine.”

I suggest you do the same, Pranksters.

Comments = full of the awesome. Like gravy. I can haz an RSS RSS feed .

22 Responses to My Smart Phone Is A Lie

  • Good Enough says:

    I sympathize. I suspect that if your smart phone and my smart phone mated their children would be retarded toasters.

  • Vinobaby says:

    Damn. My phone is so old and dumb it’s a “Tetris machine.” Low expectations.

  • Monika says:

    How ’bout a trade? I’ll give you my dumb phone and take your “Angry Birds Machine.” Sounds like a winning idea to me! :-)

  • LMAO I love this because my Smart Phone is also quite stupid. But my smart phone plays God and deletes half my contacts without notice. Sure one was my sister-in-law so perhaps it’s smarter than I give it credit for. But I am pretty sure my “Smart” phone is going to kill me in my sleep one day.

  • Miss Yvonne says:

    I keep trying to make that voice recognition thingy work on my iphone. I don’t have it on there since it’s an old version, but I want it to fucking be on there. I figure if I scream at it long enough, my husband will get tired and buy me the new one.

  • Amy says:

    When my Angry Bird player rings I get scared.

  • Bitchin' Amy says:

    Or “twitter timesucker” — which is what I call my little crack-phone.

  • Sarah says:

    My “smart” phone synced up all of my contacts with their Facebook and Twitter accounts. Which is cool, except my step-dad and stepbrother have the same name, so it took the liberty of putting them all under one contact name. And I CAN’T CHANGE IT.

    Additionally, my fiance’s “smart” phone’s “talk to type” feature messes up sometimes, and the other day, instead of the intended “it kind of helps me from the anxiety of the day,” it said, “It kind of helps me come inside you.”

    Indeed.

    • Caroline says:

      It’s obviously after your lady bits! I suggest drowning it and locking your doors…………it could come and rape you in your sleep sooooooo get a hammer too!!!!

  • We just recently upgraded from our crackberries to newer smartphones. I wanted the new iPhone so I never had to make any decisions for myself and could ask all of my questions to Suri Cruise or whatever that program is called. Well we ended up with Droids instead. My husband is excited because he can talk into it and say “your husband has a large penis” and it types it out and sends it to me in an e-mail or a text. Lovely.

  • Sarah says:

    Good Call my “smart” phone can’t even recognise the letters I’ve typed. It insits on writing the one next to it!!

  • Jamie says:

    I just upgraded my iPhone to the new 4S (after accidentally putting my old 3GS into the washing machine…ooops) and since the new phone has Siri you actually can talk to it…and it talks back! Last night I asked it to remind me to call FedEx at 10am today…after it set the reminder for me I of course said “thank you”…(manners are always important)…and then my phone said (out loud mind you) “Your satisfaction is all the thanks I need.” (I’m still not sure if it was being polite or kind of a smart ass…I’d like to think it was a little of both…)

  • The iHubby says:

    My iphone is named “The Titanic” so whenever I sync it with iTunes it says “iTunes is syncing The Titanic”. SUCK IT LEO!

  • April says:

    My smart phone is smarter than I am.

  • Kori says:

    I love my Droid. it is as smart as I need it to be, which is, you know…shit. I can’t actually think of a reason why I need it at all. Except to text. I love to text. :)

  • Alexis
    Twitter: theangelalexistwitter.com
    says:

    My dad has a smart phone for work. He won’t let the rest of us have them even if we pay for them as well as the monthly charges ourselves. He says it’s throwing money away. My mom says when they invent a smart phone that spits out Vicodin whenever you need it she’ll get one for each of us no matter what he says.

  • Lanie says:

    Done – angry bird machine it is.

  • wagthedad says:

    You have to get the iPhone 5 and then download the cure cancer app. If it doesn’t work, reboot.

    I never use the term “Smart” with anything having to do with technology. Also with very few people.

    A side note: there is an iPhone app that’s a twist on those “x-ray vision’ glasses you used to be able to buy at dorky magic stores. You hold the phone up to a person and basically it takes a photo of the person and then superimposes a skeleton or something over their image.

    In the reviews for the app there are people who are actually COMPLAINING because the x-ray app doesn’t REALLY do x-rays.

    Dumbasses.

  • Mrs D-Zo says:

    I too just bought the Twitter/portable Facebook machine and am wildly disappointed to learn it doesn’t make me any smarter at all.

    Though it does hold my infant captive with Wiggles videos anytime, anywhere. Meaning it is a stop crying machine. WORTH EVERY PENNY.

  • Tom
    Twitter: DiatribesAndOs
    says:

    You ROCK! I’m trading in my dumb phone for an Angry Birds Machine right away.

  • Marta says:

    I wonder if you had the new iPhone 4S you could use Siri to cure cancer. I mean isn’t that what the commercials imply? You tell it to do something and it does. If nothing it would be curious what google results it would pull up.

    Personally, I love my angry birds machine. I love it almost as much as my children, and perhaps slightly more than my husband.

  • jenniferB says:

    Totally agree w MrsD-Zo. My Droid has pulled through whenever I need to tame the savage beasts, aka crotch parasites. And it let’s me read Aunt Becky, whose site is blocked at my job. Boooo. It’s a win.

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