The End of An Era

We all knew the day was coming. Well, everyone except Superphone, that is. And come that day finally did.

Last Thursday, without any guilt or remorse, Seth switched carriers and ordered Uberphone. And seemingly without any conscience, when it arrived, he proceeded to check out Uberphone's cool features (including its many and varied polyphonic ring tones--Superphone had only two annoyingly obnoxious ring tones from which to choose) right in front of Superphone. I could almost hear its quiet, heartbroken sobs as it finally realized it was being replaced by a newer, better cell phone with a cheaper, better carrier.

After Seth transferred the numbers from Superphone to Uberphone, there was nothing left for Superphone to do except be relegated to the pile of other unused cell phones. Sadly, however, due to Superphone's blob, I don't think even the recycling place will want Superphone.

Let's all pause for a few moments of silence in respect for the demise of Superphone. And then join me in wishing it the best as it goes to be with the Great Cell Phone in the Sky. It truly is the end of an era.

Superphone Goes to the Chiropractor

Superphone is still alive . . . for now. Its blob has recently undergone a metamorphosis, although after mentioning that to Seth, he warned me: Do not overanalyze the blob. So I didn't. I just tried to read the number of the call that we missed last night on our way to pick up Ethan, who was carpooling with us to the laser tag place. After much squinting, I finally figured out that it was, in fact, Ethan who had rung. We had a great time laser tagging. Believe it or not, I consistently beat both McKeever men in all three games. It was lovely. Of course, as he is wont to do when his wife outpaces him, Seth made excuses on the way home: there were too many people, the building was too small, people kept snipering me. I'm surprised he didn't blame Superphone for his wife's triumph.

Today, Seth went to the chiropractor. Sadly, he forgot to take Superphone out of his front jeans pocket, and Superphone suffered yet another indignity when it was slammed into Seth's hip during the chiropractor's manipulation.

Superphone . . . the stuff that dreams are made of

From Kenda:

Oh, and is Superphone dead yet? I figured it was his ghost that was invading my dreams last night. I dreamed that my phone had a blob like Superphone. It was a very real-seeming dream.

Seth commented just last night, as he turned off Superphone for the evening (a la Monty Python): "It's not dead yet."

Superphone's Impending Demise

As I was admiring Superphone's newly aquired blob the other night, Seth informed me in that calm, quiet way of his, "I'm going to shoot Superphone." I didn't ask any more questions because I didn't want to know when or how. I just hope that it happens quickly so that Superphone doesn't suffer. I also hope that it happens before Uberphone comes onto the picture, so that Superphone doesn't get its feelings hurt. Poor, poor Superphone.

Superphone Update

Me: What time is it?

Seth: Let me consult Superphone. [flips open Superphone] Superphone says it's half past a blob.

For some reason, Superphone's LCD had broken that day, leaving a pretty liquid crystal blob covering half of Superphone's display. Seth was not amused.

I'm not sure how much longer Superphone will survive around here before it gets thrown into the creek, run over by the truck, tossed into the compost pile, or annihilated by the tractor (or possibly all of the above). I'm actually starting to feel slightly sorry for Superphone--it's not its fault that it's a cheaply-made imported-from-China cell phone selected to be used by a can't-get-reception-anywhere-just-as-cheap carrier.

Superphone

We recently switched our cellphone carrier. We were paying too much and using our phones too little. Not having cell reception in The Holler prevents us from using the cellphones as our sole method of phone communication. And since neither of us are phone aficionados anyway, our cellphone minutes per month run less than 100.

So we switched to a carrier that didn't require a contract and allowed us to pay for the minutes we use. After quite a bit of trouble with the new carrier's customer service getting our numbers ported, Seth was a bit disgruntled. Of course, this means that anything that goes wrong with our new cell phones will reinforce Seth's concept that this carrier is junk.

Since Seth "doesn't really like cell phones anyway," he chose the cheapest of this carrier's phones. I chose the phone with the camera. I warned him that he would probably get what he paid for, but he continued with his mantra, "I don't like cell phones anyway." Sure enough, he got what he paid for.

Recently Seth was watching videos of the guys from Top Gear. Jeremy Clarkson demonstrated a French super car that was anything but super. Seth decided to name his new phone Superphone and then proceeded to regale me with Tales of Superphone--each tale increasing his bitterness exponentially.

Superphone learned a new trick today. It pops off the battery pack
everytime I pull it out of my pocket.

Me: Did you call Pete?

Seth: No.

Me: Does he have an email address?

Seth: Who -- Superphone?

We may end up switching carriers again, depending on how Seth's relationship with Superphone develops. I'll keep you posted.