At least once a week, I make a statement in a blog that goes a little something like “I might literally lose my mind.” I know, I have excessively used the word literally, because if I LITERALLY meant LITERALLY i’d have been shipped off to the nutfarm a long time ago. I’d have been shipped off and lobotomized for scientific research because a case of crazy upon crazy upon crazy without a brain (since i’d have lost it and lost it and lost it) has never been seen before.
My kids may one day make me go off on some whacked out sporking spree, but will they ever drive me to actual insanity? Eh, probably not.
And while I know I have used and abused this term, this saying, this idea, and you now have absolutely no reason to trust me when I say it again (BUT THERE REALLY IS A WOLF!)- I have to tell you that there have been times where I really thought my marbles had gone missing. No, really! I’m serious. Don’t look at me that way.
If you want someone to blame, blame my cellphone. Yes, before I dropped it into a pissy toilet -though I have to say, that most certainly didn’t make things any better. Though I still must insist that smartphones are really idiots in a fancy disguise with colorful screens, but I digress.
It’s not just the fact that randomly it will erase contacts from my phonebook so that when I get a text it takes me a minute to figure out who in the holy hell it is. That’s annoying but not grounds for an insanity plea if a sporking victim ever took me to court on charges of light maiming. It’s not even the wonky ass swype dictionary and how it refuses to EVER let me make coherent sense and I end up retyping every text five times before I can send it… which really puts a damper on my funny. And SHOCKINGLY, it’s not the rage that ensues from having every “fucking” I type getting turned into “ducking” no matter how many times I change it, add it, enter it, or HAND type it.
No, it’s none of those. I actually can’t even specifically blame the hardware OF my cellphone- really, he’s just the fall guy in a long string of crimes.
I might get put in the clink for maiming people with plastic cutlery, but my phone… and the phones of others? They’re going to do some hard time for MASS TEXT MESSAGES.
I put it in caps because it makes me that angry. HULK SMASH!
There really is no greater offense than mass texts. And not sending them, I get it- it’s simple and convenient and you can cover everyone in one fell swoop. I’m a big fucking fan of the ‘work smarter not harder’ club.
The problem is the REPLY ALL function. FUCK YOU REPLY ALL!
For months now, I have been receiving random texts from numbers I cannot place anywhere saying things like “love it!” and “hope you had a great day!” and other supremely odd pleasantries. Odd because I hadn’t sent them anything first, there was no conversation happening there. Just texts out of the blue seemingly responding to…. what?! WHAT?!
Now, at first I thought it was a simple case of mistaken identity. I myself have done this more times than I care to count (like all those times I thought I was texting myself blog ideas… yeah turns out I was sending them to someone else. Awkwaaaarrrrrd).
I would text back and ask “who is this?” on the off chance that maybe my phone was just a dumb whore gobbling numbers again… no response. NEVER a response. I kept getting these random messages. Sometimes from the same number, sometimes a different one. It became hard to keep track- but NEVER did a single one of them reply when I poked and prodded about who the hell they were or why they were texting me and DID THEY KNOW they had the wrong number (aka, STOP TEXTING ME)
I started to feel like I was losing it- WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?? It was a conspiracy. Someone was fucking with me, or just really really dumb- or maybe I was just really really dumb and too dumb to realize the dumbness.
Finally. FINALLY one day I got a picture message from a friend. Not long after, a message from a random number. The two had not clicked in my mind until in my fed up state I texted back “Who IS this?”, and got a response. It was a friend of the friend who sent the picture.
DERP. I felt like a giant asshole. A gaping one.
That’s when it all made sense.
Ohhhhhhhhhh-DUH– all these random numbers that have been texting me all along? They’re responding to a mass text from someone else that I didn’t realize was a mass text.
What? I’m not special enough to get a picture unless you’re sending it to a gajillionty people?
Now I know when my phone starts to blow the fuck up that i’m not suddenly popular- it’s just more responses to a mother-badword mass text message. That I didn’t even send!
MAKE IT STOP!
It may not be the embarrassment level of drunk dialing- but at least those are entertaining
Every. Single. Time. pic.twitter.com/aAAWWjdrN3
I'm either "I HAVE 3 FRIES LEFT DON'T TOUCH MY PLATE!" or "Please take this so I can't eat any more of it!" There is no in-between.
Dear people writing articles on ways to get siblings to get along, I'll save you the time. The answer is "Don't let them play together"
Please stop Complimenting my kids’ “Good” Behavior goo.gl/fb/rwfojS
Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.