After much grumbling, I finally got rid of my 4-year-old phone. It was a great phone. I could drop it, step on it, and get it wet, and it didn’t seem to care. It had a flippy little keyboard so I could text like an old person. It vexed Verizon that I would not upgrade, and that’s always nice, to vex. Â But it was time to join the modern world, and it was free to do so, and thus I was tempted. STUPID IDEA, ME.
My new phone has many baffling features like a touch screen that enables me to randomly call people just because I scroll down a page with my hammy little thumbs. Mr. H tells me I need to get apps, apps. Fine, I’ll have the clams casino. Be a love and fetch that. It will only enfatten my thumbs.
The single worst feature, however, is a whole screen devoted to “favorites.” I dutifully stuck a few of my finer human companions in there. But then it occurred to me that there is no delete, so once someone is added, they are a perma-favorite.
What, you never suddenly decide you hate someone? You are never crossed, or even vexed? I want a phone that supports a scorched earth relationship policy in the favorites department. Mr. H suggested that I could delete the entire contact, but where’s the fun in that? I want to leave the object of my scorn in the ol’ memory banks, and change the display name to something embarrassing for when that person calls, crawling back like a worm. Lambchop gave me this idea years ago, and it works a treat!
You should see what YOUR name is in my phone. Haha! We will all laugh together, anal prod.