Sorry, Wrong Number
or wait...is this still on?!?
Okay, so last week my Krazr decided to stop taking it's lithium and went completely Norman Bates psycho. I mean, like really nuts...shutting itself off, losing service, ending calls. I think it might have caught some kind of cyberspace STD (the little trollup) flirting with this rogue TXT message that kept showing up randomly. Seriously, if it had a head, it would have been spinning a 360, vomiting up green pea soup and calling me the "C" word.
Needless to say it was pronounced dead at the Verizon store where there was a lovely little ceremony in it's honor after which it's lifeless hull was donated to science and the women's shelter. This left me the arduous task of choosing another device with which to be frustrated...uh, I mean play.
There are waaaay too many choices for my bean to comprehend. They were having a significant deal on Blackberries (a BOGO, if you will), but it would have cost an extra $60 per month for the service because they hog tie you with all of the "Data" services at Ole Verizon. Anywho...we decided on two LG's, a Chocolate for Geo and a Versa for me, because, you know, I'm spoiled and have to have the keyboard which wraps around the phone like a case. Plus I got the bells and whistles in the form of internet service and GPS navigation, et al.
$3000 later with an agreement to give up our first born in our next lifetime, we walk out of the store with our new swanky phones and a manual which pretty much reads like an incomprehensible Greek tragedy, chiseled from the Rosetta Stone in ancient Cuneiform. Then I proceed to drop it on the floor in the mall, scattering its multiple parts all over a four foot area much to Geo's dismay. But that's another story altogether...
Fast forward (or I guess flash backward) to Saturday. I'm at work getting ready to record our High School quiz shows when my bud, K-Schnikes, whom I've written of in a prior post linked here, comes in to audio to chat and check out my new phone. I'm showing him how the touch screen works in the contacts folder. I hand it to K-Schnikes to let him try his hand at the touch screen. His big ole fingers fling the text which lands randomly on one John Green, Award winning young adult author of whom I've written here.
(Brief background: K-Schnikes LOVES John Green and his writings and was quite giddy (as was I) when we got to hang with John and his brother Hank back in November.)
So my FRIEND jokingly says, "Hey, let's call him" and hits the screen. Ms. Versa starts dialing the freaking number!! "Holy CRAP!" I say in my usual demure and feminine way, slamming the keyboard case shut.
Whew! That was a close one. We proceed to chat and listen to some CDs I brought to use for our hosts entrance. It's all good...
And that's when I see it... the time ticking along on the front screen of my phone. 1:48 1:49 1:50...
My eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. OMG!!! The phone connection is still ON!!! Slamming the cover closed DOES NOT END THE CALL!
sh*t sh*t SH*T!
Then, horror of horrors, I realize my name will show up with my number since I gave him my cell number to call me when they got into town. Oh great... Our entire unguarded conversation is now a ridiculously, random ramble on the voicemail of one of the nicest notable persons I've ever met--who now thinks I'm a nut job. How mortifying. Damn you, technology and your fancy ways!
Surely I'm not the only one out there who has had a new phone blunder worthy of a red face or two. I'd love to hear a story or three, you know, to make me feel less of a total asshat... or at least an asshat in good company. So come on, kids..spill it. Think of it as community service to the elderly.
Also, please enjoy this completely stupid act. The fun begins at :52. Now this dude is asshat royalty. Enjoy!