Yesterday I got drafted to run errands with my Father. If you’re aware of my relationship with him, you’d know why I really wasn’t all that thrilled. I’ve also started a new medication. It has one of those TV commercials where you wonder what kind of idiot would take the stuff with all it’s possible side effects. Well…thanks to my worsening bipolar and my not so great association with me Da, I’m that kind.
During one of our stops, I decided to visit the local Verizon store next door to look into how economical the “free upgrade” offer they’ve been badgering me with for many months would actually be. It really was such a good deal, I proudly walked out with a new LG phone. Oh, I remember it like it was yesterday. I was such an innocent back then. Wait a minute. That was yesterday! Ah, crap! Yep. That young fella saw this idiot coming.
I’m also an all together different kind of idiot, as well. It’s called an “idjit”. Idiots go tripping through the world perfectly aware others are making allowances for them because those misguided folks don’t know they’re being snowed by a master manipulator. Then there’s the hapless person who comes along, and they genuinely can’t help it. That person is an idjit. The kind of person deep Southerners comment about with, “Bless his/her little heart. He/She cain’t hep it.” I suspected I fit glaringly into that category the day I got pulled in with my rig for inspection in Maryland, and things just didn’t go smoothly. I wound up with a huge gob of greasy goo on my left sleeve from a tool tray. When I turned to get back into the rig, there was an audible tearing sound as I ripped my right sleeve more than half off by catching it on the corner of the trailer. The inspector just looked at me and said, “Ma’am, I think we can forego the inspection. Just go ahead and go. Carefully.” As I walked away, I just know he was thinking, “Poor thing. She cain’t hep it.” I was thinking, “Hoo boy! I’m such an idjit!”
Anyway, under most circumstances, this person, the idjit, seems perfectly normal and may even appear to be highly intelligent…until faced with something smarter than they are, like a 5-year-old future Harvard debate champion or a new telephone, otherwise known as a smart phone. Oh, it is indeed smart. This phone has app symbols which confound the brain, forget the apps themselves! Or at least let’s not discuss the functions of the open apps just yet. After all, apps actually means applications, and applications are actually computer programs for telephones. Programs you have to figure out the functions of while combating the here again, gone again, won’t go the hell away touchscreen keyboard that’s covering half of the instructions for making the app (sigh) function correctly.
The only thing I’ve found easy about my new phone, so far, was creating a password. However, this new medication of mine made forgetting that password even easier. Thankfully, after several minutes of burning my blood pressure medication out of my system, I remembered the simple password which turned out to not be so simple after all. Heh. Have fun hackers.
I say with both chagrin and pride. My phone contents are quite safe because I is an idjit.
PS: In less than two days, I’ve managed to lose both the phone’s screen protector and the stylus for the phone. That was a quick $2.00!