Tag Archives: iPhone 5

Hey, can you Google that for me? Thanks …


Hey does anyone know the number for the take-out place down the road? No? Fuck. Maybe you know the movie schedule for Friday? Perhaps someone would be kind enough to answer for me what “Google” is, or better yet, tell my fucking wife.

Pardon that rude introduction to this blog. It was rude only because I’m at my wits end. Some of you, well a few of you anyway – OK, probably none of you – have to deal on a daily basis with a technophobe. If I’m somehow mistaken and you do have a spouse like mine, you have my sympathy and we should start a support group.

Hello, my name is Beers and my significant other thinks Tumblr is used for drying the laundry.

It’s fucking driving me insane.

As some of you remember, I bought my wife an iPhone 5 and WOW was she excited. Her old phone was manufactured by cavemen, had a battery life measured in seconds and weighed as much as the Apollo 9 space capsule. The new phone has unlimited calls and text messages to the U.S. and that shit excites her. She and her daughter can be “Chatty Cathys” all the live-long day and that’s “fucking awesome,” I’m told.

Seriously, with what is arguably one of the best smart phones on the planet today, she’s still no technically wiser than understanding that ; plus ) equals a winky face.

I had to explain what ROTFL meant to her yesterday. If you don’t know what that means than please leave the internet right now.

I recently received the following “instant message” from my wife Picture1

“Can you look up the community bank hours and tell me when they open?”

Now I shouldn’t bitch, prior to the iPhone purchase the concept of an IM would have been the equivalent of landing a man on the sun for her. Text messages were what all those damned kids were doing to “sex-up all their friends” on Friendster and MySpace. So the very fact that she can now text at all is a vast, vast improvement.

But for fuck’s sake, that message was 14 words long. By simply opening whatever shitty browser Apple shoves down our collective throats and typing “community bank hours (city name)” into the fucking search bar the answer would’ve magically appeared. When I suggested that the aforementioned method is really faster than asking me to do it (on an inferior phone, no less), I’m accused of being an asshole.

The emoticon that would convey the eye roll I just did doesn’t exist. It will never exist. It cannot exist. It was an epic eye roll.

This is the second example.

During a brief period of unemployment after retiring from the U.S. Army in 2009 my wife became acquainted with Facebook. I was proud of her. She never once sent me a Farmville request to water her marijuana plants or whatever the fuck it is Farmville players do, but rather made a few witty comments here and there and did the general shit we all do on Facebook. “So glad you had a good birthday,” and “the baby looks so cute” or the occasional, “Sorry about the penis cancer.” I mean, she got it. She avoided the bullshit that we’ve all occasionally succumbed to on Facebook. You know what I mean — click here to see who unfriended you (you fuckers), find out about the 18+ Facebook, and grow a larger penis in just two weeks — the type of crap we’ve all clicked on. You’ve clicked on that shit too, right? I’ll just assume you have.

Anyway, she picked up a job a few short weeks later and from then on Facebook could go fuck itself. Her hours of free time shrunk back to normal and Facebook died when matched against her desire to watch American Idol.

Fast forward to the new iPhone 5 purchase and the installation of the Facebook app. Just days after its purchase I get a concerned look from my wife.

“Honey, can I talk to you,” she asked almost in tears. “Why are so many people mad at me on Facebook? Why are they posting mean things about me, about me being negative and mean?”

This weird question, and you’re all thinking the same thing, is the equivalent of her asking me why dinosaurs had sex with Elvis Presley on the White House lawn. I mean, she hadn’t been on Facebook for more than four years if you discount the occasional quick check to make sure I wasn’t posting photos of my testicles willy-nilly.

I looked at her with confusion. I didn’t really check her status that much anymore because her last update was literally July 16, 2010. She’s my wife on Facebook and, this is the odd part, also in real life. I get notified when she farts on Facebook. Who the fuck was saying negative shit about her? I was failing miserably as a husband for not bringing to bear my considerable 74 Facebook friends to e-beat the fuck out of whoever the fucktard was that was talking shit about my wife on Facebook!

Still though, it made no sense. In order to have an interaction on Facebook you have to, well, interact on Facebook. As a guy who’s been called an asshole many, many times on Facebook, trust me, I know this fact.

“Honey, show me what you mean,” I finally said.

Yep.  It's personal.
Yep. It’s personal.

She pulled out her phone, opened the Facebook app and showed me. I know I didn’t laugh, but I kind of chucked a bit.

You know all that shit you (we) all post? The meme’s about, “If all you have are negative people in your life blah, blah?” or “Mean people are <insert retarded Facebook meme here>”? She — I’m not kidding — literally thought people were posting that about her. It was just her normal Facebook feed.

I don’t know if I should laugh or cry …

I’ll just have another beer.

My wife finally gets a smart phone. I get unsmarter …


So after years, literally years, of pleading with my wife that she get rid of the brick she referred to as a cell phone (purchased in 2005, I kid you not) I have, at last, achieved success.

While my appeals garnered responses like, “It makes calls, that’s all I need it for,” and “Phones are stupid, people shouldn’t have them,*” I was gobsmacked when she turned to me last week and said, with a straight face, “Would you get me a smart phone?”

Just because the phone is smart, doesn't mean I am.

Just because the phone is smart, doesn’t mean I am.

Why did the technophobe become the technophile, you ask? Her daughter, is the simple answer. Her daughter asked me last weekend why her mom didn’t have a smart phone and the bells went off in my head. This, I knew, was the perfect way to get my lovely wife away from her monochrome flip phone and into something more representative of this millennium.

“You should suggest it to her,” I skillfully replied (because if nothing, I have mad skillz at … stuff). If her daughter wanted it, mommy would do it.

I was right. Her daughter asked her to do it and she did it for that reason and that reason alone.

Dagmar is now the proud owner of an iPhone 5, which is a better phone than mine. I rushed right out and got it, lest her desire to own a piece of modern technology faded and she became once again enamored with that paper weight she clung too.( I promise you it had a rotary dial on it. She would dial a nine and have to wait five minutes for the rotary wheel to reset — and most of you didn’t get that joke did you?)

I think this is a good time to point out that I haven’t used the word fuck, shit or “that really bad word” once yet.  Have you noticed?  It wasn’t intentional at all. Isn’t that a hoot?

Boobies! There I feel a bit better, not much but a bit.

Which reminds me, here I am in a hotel room without any access to images of boobs, save strangers’ on the internet, and all my lovely bride is sending me are fucking (wow I finally swore in a real sentence … I’m getting my  stride back) photos of the cat. Really honey, is it too much to ask for a little “bow chicka wow wow” at the end the evening?

So new iPhone in hand, out into the modern world she goes. I felt uncertain, at first, as if I had released a blind person from their curse. I can call blind people cursed here because blind people can’t read this. So suck on that blind people.

The first few days you watch a person with their first smart phone is like watching a toddler explore the playground. Sure they’ll eat some sand (send a text that reads “you are a butt thread,”) hurt themselves on the monkey bars, (send photos of their foot) and get pushed down by a 3-year-old but hey — that’s part of growing up!

I have noticed, in the past, when she wasn’t working, Facebook wasn’t quite the evil, retarded (it’s totally evil and retarded, honey) stop on the internet she always claimed it was.  Meaning, with a bit of leisure time and ready computer access she was quite the little commenter. She even did updates.

Even. Did. Updates.

A few of you who are friends with my her on Facebook may have noticed a slight uptick in comments from my lovely frau. You can thank the iPhone(though she still has that retarded kitten as her profile picture).

Boobalicious. I'm going to start saying boobalicious more often

Boobalicious. I’m going to start saying boobalicious more often

I will also, for the foreseeable future, not be making comments about your boobs, ladies. I’m totally kidding. I will still be totally be making comments about your boobs.

Here’s a few boob comments I’ve been “developing.”

That’s boobtastic!  You’re boobalicious! I’m boobcited about tits, I meant this.

I can’t wait for warmer weather. Can you tell?

So anyway I love boobs.  Boobs, boobs, boobs.

Oh shit, wait – this is about my wife getting an iPhone 5.

Honey, I love you. Text me baby.  Text me boobs!

* that’s an actual quote.

I got an iPhone, I got a new iPhone! Holy everthing I got a new iPhone! Seriously I got a new iPhone!


The new iPhone 5 is out the new iPhone 5 is out OH MY GOD, the economy isn’t that bad.

Look any economy that can support a collective group of retards that literally camp out for days in order to spend $700 on what is basically a status symbol isn’t in decline.

That’s the reason this election isn’t about the economy, the economy isn’t that bad.   Interest rates for a new house are at roughly “1.pleasebymepercent” and a bunch of ‘tards are amped up because apple ‘did something’.

This economy is so bad I'll wait in line to spend $700!

This economy is so bad I’ll wait in line to spend $700! (photo credit: CNN)

Seriously how bad can the economy be when people line up and camp out to spend $700 on something that will be old news, right now?   How bad can it be?  Chelsea Handler just said the iPhone 5 was over and that she was having sex with Steve Job’s ghost while drinking Vodka.

Or something I wasn’t really listening.

I also got a new phone today.  I’m pretty pumped about it too.

I paid exactly 0.0 dollars for it and it has exactly 0.0 new features over my old phone.

Much like the iPhone 5.

Let me explain.

Today my phone committed suici … okay no MORE LIES … I killed my old iPhone 4.  I rode bareback with her, I never protected her and I gambled with her life, every day.   I didn’t ‘wrap my rascal’ and a fatal fall killed her.

I couldn’t find a case I liked but more to the point I couldn’t be bothered to look for a case because, “I’ll never drop this phone.”

Then I dropped the phone.

Today.

On the day that the new iPhone 5 goes on sale and I really, really hate apple so today was really inconvenient.  Had this happened in August or October you likely wouldn’t be reading this, I just don’t care about apple and changing phone manufactures IS a goal of mine.

But changing phone numbers is just too hard, or I’m just too lazy.

My wife said, and I deserved this, you did this on purpose to get the new phone.

Let me assure the world, getting a new phone, in this day and age is the absolute last thing I want to do.   I have to reload contacts, re-synch the music, re-synch the apps, re-enter passwords and … I’d rather someone punched me in the balls.  Everyone reading this knows it’s a pain in the ass.

The line at the store was fun.  Some hippy chick that was born last night asked so many questions people behind her were actively plotting her death, myself included.  I favored a diversion followed by a slow and painful strangulation but was outvoted by just punching her to death.

Seriously hippy girl had to apologize to the crowd several times.

The crowd was weird.   Lots of suits.   They were all, to a person, very enthusiastic about the new phone.   Which is cool but here I was not giving a shit about the new iPhone stuck talking to them without a device that allowed me to disengage from the conversation cause my phone was broke.  Actually I should have offered to buy their old phone, that would have been a good plan but …

Focus Todd, back to the story.

Finally, after what seemed like … well it was really only 20 minutes I reached the guy at the counter.

I told him my sad, sad story.  I dropped it, the repair guy said it was about the same as a new phone and can you help me sir?

He had a new iPhone 5 of course, one of only a few, would I want it for just *billion euros?  I sighed.  Dagmar will hate me but fuck it, sure.  I need a working phone, for work, this blog and porn if nothing else.

He typed into the computer, looking up my contract.  We chit chatted.   I don’t give a shit about iPhones I told him, I’m pissed I have to buy new chargers.   Do you have adapters for the old chargers, no?  This sucks.

Then he said the magic words.

“Have you ever upgraded?”

“No, I’m a virgin,” I blushed.

“Why not just upgrade to a 4s,” he replied, licking his lips.

“How much would that cost,” I said looking him in the eye.

“One Euro,” he said removing his shirt.

And we made sweet, sweet gay love right there on the counter.

Look the iPhone 5 is like 5 million Euros or some shit and slap that 4s on the counter for one euro, I’ll take one please.

I bought a phone condom, at the same time.   It was a 15 Euro phone case.   I gave him a 20 euro bill.  Unlike America not everyone has a cash register, he had the typical euro leather wallet of bills.  He didn’t have a much euro change.

“I guess this phone is on me,” he said.

And it was.  Now if I can just get Siri to say tits and update my contacts.