Friday, July 13, 2012

Ghosts In The Machine

Foodie Friday will be in full effect next week, yo.  But, as I am on vacation right now and unwilling to do anything that may qualify as actual "work" then you shall have to wait to hear of the glorious bounty I have ingested down here in California.  I would feel guilty about my gluttonous ways were it not for the fact that my friend Curtis has had me at the gym every day exercising like Jillian Michaels on Thorazine.  I'd kick his punk ass if I could move my legs.  Meh.  So, in the interim, this is what you get. . .

I am among the last people on the planet to get a Smart Phone, in large part because I myself am not a smart person.  Things like apps and iTunes baffle me and it took the combined efforts of my ten-year-old children to teach me how to use the OnDemand feature on my TV.  I had been content to use my ghetto Tracfone for years until my foray into the worlds of blogging and Twitter forced me to make the Great Leap Forward and get what my friend Jess referred to as a "Big Girl Phone".  At first I was tentative, but gradually I grew to love my new iPhone.  And by love, I mean adore.  And by adore, I mean deify.  And by deify I mean I would catch a grenade for it. . .throw my hand on a blade for it. . .I'd jump in front of a train for it. . .yeah, I would do anything for it.  That is, however, until a few weeks ago when it suddenly turned against me.  It started quietly enough, as most rebellions do; with a whisper, not a bang.  It started with a cryptic text from Misty.



Wait. . .what?  I scrolled through my message queue and reread our conversation from the night before.  We  discussed the hellacious heat back East, talked smack about our kids, she said good night, I said goodnight, aaaaaaaaannnnnnd scene!  Nothing about cycles pointing in any direction.


I pondered this shit for over an hour.  How can someone be sending texts from me that AREN'T me?  Had there been some sort of iPhone identity theft, and if so, that begs the larger question of why in hell would anyone want to steal MY identity?  Trust me, if you're looking to go all "Single White Female" on someone then here's a tip:  don't choose the 41 year old dipshit with the crappy driving record and a student loan.  I watched my iPhone with a wary eye; my trust slipping faster than Paula Deen on a greased Slip-n-Slide.  The next 24 hours passed without incident, and then as I was tithing my offerings at the holy temple of Target I received a text from Misty that took me aback.   I stared at it in confusion for about five minutes before tapping out a befuddled reply.



So, was it not just someone in MY phone?  Was it a bizarre Misty/Jen hybrid stalker?  I'd barely had time to formulate an adequate conspiracy theory when Misty posted the following query regarding the photo she'd posted of her husband singing karaoke.




The next few days were a similar series of unfortunate events.  I received texts extolling the virtues of "stay-hard" cream from my friend Gina, a random series of letters and numbers from my friend Dana, and apparently my evil twin began speaking Klingon to Misty in the midst of our conversations.  After three days of this skullfuckery I was ready to go all Naomi Campbell on a bitch and throw my phone at someone's head.  The final straw came when I was sitting on the couch watching "Ghost Protocol" and received a text from my friend Max that was so confusing I was almost unable to focus on Jeremy Renner's forearms.*

*"Almost" being the operative word.  I'm not made of stone, y'all.

The next morning I fired off a reply to Max.


Max's willful indiscretions notwithstanding, I was frustrated enough to actually break my vow of lethargy and drag my sorry ass to the AT&T store.  After not one, not two, but three employees attempted to crack the daVinci Code that had infiltrated my phone, my Apl.d.Ap homeboy Gabriel uncovered the problem.*

*My AT&T store is the schizznit.  Mad fist bumps, my people.

Gabriel handed my Barbie pink iPhone to me with great solemnity.  "Your phone,"  he said gravely "has been compromised."

I was initially distressed by this news but the more I thought about the word "compromised" the cooler it sounded, like my iPhone was a member of the Avengers Initiative.  Suddenly my suburban existence seemed all covert and James Bond-y.

"So," I said excitedly, "is it like a government conspiracy?  Ooh!  Was someone using my phone to tap into a Mafia syndicate or transfer messages to a drug cartel?"

Gabriel stared at me for a moment, then spoke to me as one does to a mentally-challenged toddler.  "No.  It means that sometimes 971 numbers experience interference from similar numbers.  Very rarely does the CIA  utilize civilian iPhones. . .especially pink ones with Nicki Minaj as their ringtone."

Touche, my good man.  Anyhoo, whatever the problem may have been, Gabriel and the fine men and women of the Bridgeport AT&T store fixed my phone and it has been without incident ever since.  But truthfully, the experience has left me a little paranoid and jaded.  How much of what we email and text winds up out in the digital universe for all to see?  I contacted Misty and told her that the problem should be rectified and asked if she'd received any other cryptic messages from my phone.

"No."  she replied a little sadly "actually, I kind of miss them."

"Well,"  I replied consolingly, "maybe we should keep talking in spy code anyway. . .you know, just to be safe."

Misty grew stoic.  "The eagle flies at midnight"  she said with great solemnity.  "I repeat: the eagle.  Flies.  At midnight."

"The owls have eyes"  I replied.  "the owls have eyes that only the snowman can see."

Childish?  Perhaps.  But I think that all of us need a little Mission Impossible in our lives.

This blog will self-destruct in three seconds. . . 

















28 comments:

AC said...

Love it! I just got an iPhone (through work) and haven't seen anything crazy yet.

Though I send texts to my husband and he says he never gets them...

Wonder who I sent that dinosaur porn to.

socialassassin said...

My best friend and I used to have a code to let the other know to be guarded in conversation since others were listening in nearby. This would commence with the phrase "Salmon live in trees and eat pencils". Not just Mission Impossible, but Mission Impossible during a bad acid flashback. The sheer level of strange interactions between me and him will be the subject of a future blog where I decided to interview him. Top Tip: Never interview your best friend!! All will be revealed. ;)

Jen said...

AC- Aaaaaaand, now I'm going to be googling dino porn all day. How did I not know of such majesty?

Leauxra said...

I am picturing someone getting all your texts one day... say the day you and Misty were making up store porn names. It would be so confusing, and so awesome.

Jen said...

KEVIN- That is why I quake in fear at the thought of any of my P-Town friends starting a blog. Since I've thrown all of them under the bus they are apt to go all Righteous Vengeance on my ass.

Maggi Shelbourn said...

I had wanted an iPhone for ever, but my husband is the type of person that if your phone is not broken, you don't need a new one, not even if you are elegible for a free upgrade. Well, after I lived through the HELL that was his knee replacement surgery and subsequent recovery, I got my iPhone (he figured that he better do something fucking awesome for me or else) and I LOVE IT! Now he will tell anyone who listens that I am having a "phomance" with my iPhone. He's just jealous. No CIA related texts yet, but I am hopeful...

Jen said...

LEAUXRA- Between my blog and my texts to Misty, I am completely screwed should I ever decide to run for public office.

Jen said...

MAGGI- My iPhone and I have reconciled and reaffirmed our vows. The romance is back alive.

Killer Cupcake said...

Hmmm. Those look shockingly like my famous Ambien texts. Is there any chance I'm gaining control over your phone via osmosis while I'm patrolling the earth in an Ambien induced fog, eating French toast and bogarting the air waves?

Jen said...

DANI - That? Right there? Is why I don't take Ambien. I've heard way too many stories of the David Lynch type antics that follow.

mistyslaws said...

OMG, it was Dani all this time!!! Mystery solved.

Psst, Jen . . . the big fat dog stalks the sly red fox. You have your directives. Go forth and do your thing. I will be waiting at the designated rendezvous point.

lazysubculturalgirl said...

My iPhone has never been compromised, so I'm a little sad about that. But I have to admit, as much as I like my iPhone, it's the Kindle app that I'm really in love with. The whole phone/text thing is ok but HOLY CARP, I'm carrying around ENTIRE BOOKS! In one convenient package! And look, I can download MORE books anyplace I can get Wifi!

Ok, I'm done with the squeegasm. Pant, pant. Was it good for you?

Gia said...

Hahaha that is bizarre! I never heard of that but it definitely would make me paranoid, too.

Frances Gronlier said...

Well mine is not an iphone but a horrible HTC phone (never will I buy one again).Everytime I restart it, the phone will send everyone random text messages from me days ago. Then I get a reply from them wondering if I inhaled bath salts. Seriously i feel your pain on this.
**fistbump**

Jen said...

MISTY- The cat knows why the caged bird sings. Eat this message after you read it...

ANDI- I 'heart' my Kindle so hard! And not just because of its twee Kate Spade cover...but that helps. :)

GIA- The iPhone is watching you. Be afraid...be very afraid.

Jen said...

FRANCES- *fist bumps* back atcha, Girl. It's like drunk dialing without the fun of ACTUALLY drinking.

NayNay said...

I'm jealous. My phone never does anything fun!

Jillian said...

I say that my reason for not getting a smart phone is that I'm poor, but really it's because I already text in my sleep. Come to think of it, my sleep texts aren't that exciting and sometimes only contain half of a word, like "goodn" or "lo." Maybe if I had a smart phone, they would actually provide some measure of entertainment. You know, like sleep texts are supposed to.

Jen said...

NAYNAY- Sadly, my phone has a far more active night life than I.

JILLIAN- My friend sleep texts me her grocery lists all the time. It's not uncommon to wake up to find a text from Kim reading "milk, tampons, Windex..."

sars said...

If I ever write to you in spy code it will say

Can't talk now, sprite is bending straw while working.

You'll totally know when it will self destruct and even the angle to duck your head!

Jen said...

SARS- "Don't get anything on the couch! We aren't supposed to be filming here!"

NellieVaughn said...

That is creepy. Not poltergeist intent on driving me insane kind of creepy. More small-time creepy. That wold never happen with my phone because it died, and I don't plan on replacing it. FREEDOM!

Jen said...

NELLIE- I wish I could break up with my phone but our love cannot be denied.

Vesta Vayne said...

I was anti-iphone forever, but I broke down and got one a few months ago. It is the greatest thing ever.

Mine hasn't been compromised, now I feel like I'm missing out.

Youngman Brown said...

Your blog is like internet porn for intelligent people.

So brilliant.

Especially when Misty says "The eagle flies at midnight" with great solemnity. Just pure amazingness.

Yes. Amazingness.

Also, Max's response to you had me laughing my ass off.

Jen said...

VESTA- It was pretty cool really; kind of like "Mission Impossible" and I was Tom Cruise, just without the Scientology and repressed homosexuality.

YOUNGMAN- Damn...that is heady praise coming from you, kind sir. I am truly blessed in that I am surrounded by family and friends that are such rich blog fodder that they make writing a veritable walk in the park! :)

Brett Minor said...

I've never had anything weird happen on my phone, but my brother has autocorrect on his phone and loves the crazy messages it comes up with. he always goes ahead and sends them without explanation so everyone can laugh when they figure out what is going on.

Andrea said...

I am still impressed that you know how to use your on demand oh, and I don't even have a full keyboard on my cell...I am Wilma Flintstone!