Once upon a time in early December 2004, there was a young, bright-eyed newlywed who, after saving from her newish job, decided what she wanted to splurge on.
A fancy phone. A really fancy phone. A phone that by today’s standards would cost maybe 70 bucks but back then it was state of the art and cost many hundreds of dollars. I was ecstatic and in love and we should have lived a long and happy life together, that phone and I, only just a few weeks later I started throwing up and the plus sign on the pregnancy test was the heralding in of my fancy phone’s DOOM.
That plus sign turned into Rowan J Gunterpants who was truly the world’s sweetest baby. Only that sweetest baby drooled. A lot. That sweetest baby was also not so very sweet during car trips which she spent squirming and whining and crying. One day I picked her up from daycare when she was about a year old, and she was incredibly cranky and was NOT excited to be in the car. The only thing that seemed to distract her from the awful TRAUMA of riding in a motor vehicle was to push the buttons and play with my (locked) fancy phone.
It was harmless! I had let her do it so many times before and nothing bad had ever happened. And she was so blessedly quiet when she had it that I didn’t even turn around or check on her in the rearview mirror. When we got home I walked around to get her out of the car and there she was, holding my phone. With her mouth. Her poison drool had penetrated my beloved phone so thoroughly and completely it never ever turned on again.
Well, dummy, I hear you saying, didn’t you get phone insurance or a protection plan on a phone that cost that much money?
And I say to you, HMMM ,DUMMY, Do you think I’d be telling you this story if I HAD GOTTEN THE MOTHERFUCKING PROTECTION PLAN?
It was dead. Gone forever. We’d been together less than a year. It was very sad.
With shame I went back to T-Mobile and picked out the free piece of crap they give you and to get it for free we had to sign a three year contract. My punishment, we decided, would be to never spend that much money on a cell phone ever again. Too risky. Too much money. Too much heartbreak over a freakin inanimate object.
And I was totally, 100 percent fine with this decision until Apple, those sonsabitches, came out with the iphone and I was all “I waaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnttt it” and “I’ll love it and feed it and never let anything bad happen to it EVER”.
And Bill was all: “NO.”
Not until the kids, with their gooey secretions, were old enough to know to keep it out of their mouths. I pouted but knew he was right. Plus? iphones=KERCHING KERCHING. And we certainly did not have kerching, kerching.
About a year ago our contract with T-Mobile ended, and since we didn’t want to re-sign they hiked our rate up a little but we were free agents. Free agents with a very drooly one year old. And to be honest we totally forgot about it until we were reminded how of how awesomely cool the iphone is by this lady, who came to visit last weekend and who I totally blame for all of this.
Here is something you should know. Bill and I totally enable one another when there is a large ticket item we both want. We act casual. But we know we are secretly influencing the other to JUST DO IT.
“Hey, are we still on contract with T-Mobile?”
“Hmm, Jeesh, I don’t know, I’ll check into that.”
“Yeah, I’m just curious.”
“Just checked. No we’re not. Maybe I’ll go stop into AT&T to just, you know, look around. Price some stuff out.”
“Huh. Ok, if you want to I guess.”
“Why don’t you just call me from there. Let me know what they have.”
“Oh, sure. Will do.”
And you all know where that brings us. To this status update/tweet:No one intervened and we are totally powerless against Apple. We are putty in their hands. No, not even putty. WE ARE MUSH.
Bill called me with the phone and plan prices and it was actually really reasonable compared to our crappy non-contract t-mobile family plan so I obviously gave him my blessing and that was that. I knew I was getting a bright shiny new iphone and man, I was nervous. What if it didn’t like me? What if Keaton tries to poop on it or flush it down the toilet?
Then I saw it and none of that mattered anymore.
I was in phone love. Once again.
I let iphone (will come up with a more suave name once I get to know him better) have a short, supervised visit with a future Apple geek-ass.
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