09 June, 2010

don't fear the reaper, dude

which i don't...well, i do, but only if the reaper comes in the form of The Cancer, in which case i am totally scared shitless. nothing beats a long, drawn out, painful illness, no?

so, what i do fear, however, is my phone. or any phone, for that matter. this seems to be a pretty typical fear* and as much as i hate to be typical, well, there it is - i fear the phone. and hate it. it is a pretty potent mix of equal parts hatred and fear, with perhaps an extra twist of hatred.

first of all, our reception is shit. we live on an oceanside hill which wreaks havoc with all the little microwaves flying through the air (nice visual, non? you're welcome.) so to counter the fact that i was missing nearly 73% ** of my incoming calls, i got an answering service. an inane ridiculous answering service (wo)manned by a perky bitch who is completely unreasonable.

i call and she asks me perkily "who's calling, please?" which prompts me to input my PIN. i hate perky bitch and wish she were actually there so i could tell her off. after all, after all this time, surely she should be able to recognize the soft snuffle of my breath on the line. surely. but no.

if there is a message, i hear, "if you would like to listen to your message, press 1" which makes me wonder what the hell else i would want to do to my message: eat it? have a furtive petting session in the broom closet with it? slap its face and call it nasty names? what? it's a message, i should like to LISTEN TO IT if it's not too much to ask. jesus.

all this stresses me out way more than it should and so i get mad at mr. monkey when he leaves a message because then i have to go through the whole circus of inputting my PIN and pressing 1 and this is Very Difficult, you see. and just now as i typed all this, i realised that even though i yelled at mr. monkey yesterday for leaving me a message, just a month or two ago i got mad at him for not leaving a message. you see, my phone tells me i missed a call and sometimes it tells me there is a message even though it's an ancient message that thrice i tried to erase but didn't, so if i see i missed a call and there's a message, i have to run the electronic gauntlet only to be given the message i had already heard seven times and not the one i was expecting at all.

dude, between this and the constant nail filing thing, i really don't know how i manage to make it from day to day.



*jump to the comments section to see how many articulate intelligent people are thrown into paroxysms of fear by the phone. it's weird!

**fuck, yeah, i made that number up. how the hell could i know?

4 comments:

Country Gent said...

87% of the time phones are a pain in the ass. I'd love to go back to 1896 when the only phone I'd have to use is a pair of soup cans with 50 m of twine. (do you like my use of percentages - I made that up too)

puncturedbicycle said...

My phone phobia is unpredictable - bad on a bad day, not so bad the rest of the time - so I'm no expert, but I can tell you with confidence that as far as the nails are concerned, I am very much in favour of using a toenail clipper, then filing the sharp edges. Ordinary nail clippers are too small. Clipping is much quicker and gentler on the nail than filing, but it does seem to make them grow like a mofo.

(I could tell you mine is only used for fingers, though I must admit I can't tell the difference between any of my clippers, so I use them interchangeably on fingers and/or toes and wash my hands and get on with my life.)

Anonymous said...

Life is just hell at Monkey Towers, ain't it? :)

the polish chick said...

oh, pure unadulterated hell. then again, can one actually adulterate hell? and what would the final result be? impure hell? hmmm...