I Have a Smart Phone Now.

So a few days ago Scott sends me a text on my ancient slide out keypad phone that he wants to get me a smart phone and use the phone company to get Internet now instead of our super shitty satellite Internet that works when it feels like it and has a love hate relationship with clouds.

Well he didn't send all that in one text. I'm paraphrasing.

Then he got back from the phone store and was all like they have this little router thing so we can use the phone network for Internet now. And I was all like how much Internet? And he was all like, I want to take us up to ten gigs a month. And I was all like our phones don't work unless we stand smashed up against the glass sliding door or physically walk outside. And then he was all like we'll just put the router by the door.

And I was all like oookkaayy.

So this all ended up with me standing in the phone store realizing that I didn't put on deodorant and that I don't like change. Specifically phone change. Unfortunately for me the same sales lady that Scott had talked to before was there and she was all like, here is the phone he was talking about for you. And then she walks over and unlocks a cabinet and pulls out this little white box and takes the top off and does that thing to activate the phone so I can play with the screen and hands me this little slim streamlined thing about as thick as a piece of cardboard and my first thought is I am going to break the heck out of it.

Okay.

So I have this thing, you know, I am like, strong. I mean, for a girl I am strong as shit right? Okay. Let me try this again. I once pulled someone's fold out closet door too hard and broke it because they were all like oh it justs sticks just pull it really hard and then I gave it a halfhearted little jerk and then they were all like no, you really have to pull and then I did. I pulled like I would a stuck board or on a set piece at work and then the door popped open and top hinge of the fold broke loose with a bang and I was left holding a big fat accordion like mess and apologizing while they compared me to some sort of female incredible hulk.

Except without the incredible part.

So I felt a little disconcerted at holding a phone so light it felt like motherfucking butterflys were supposed to use it. Of course Scott loved it because it was a smaller version of his phone and had a better screen resolution and it came preloaded with a bunch of apps I was probably never going to use. So then I pulled out my old phone and felt a terrible pang that after today I was never going to use it again and then I asked to see there other smart phones and we went over to the wall where they had phones with screens so big they looked like downsized Kindles.

It was about then that Scott got a hold of the manual and him and the sales lady were telling me a bunch of gibberish that I didn't understand while I was roaming the bright displays of phones trying not to breathe too hard on Slim Mc Breakable.

I had decided to name the phone Slim Mc Breakable.

The sales lady was not thrilled.

So then Scott was all like we'll just have to get you an Otterbox (protective case thing that is named after otters I don't know you tell me) and then Sales Lady is all like oh this phone is too new to have one in yet.

Cue that sound of a record scratching.

So then I was like what?

And then Scott was all like, when will you have them in? And Sales Lady was all, next week. And Scott was like we can just get one next week. And I am all like, we are working most of next week and then we are gone for like a week to work a dusty, outdoor, possibly wet festival.

And then there was a weird moment where Sales Lady and Scott and me and Slim Mc Breakable didn't say anything and then I attempted to explain that it was not possible for Slim Mc Breakable to survive my life and no I couldn't just carry him in my bag because it was filled with tools and every time I pack Oreos in my work bag they come out looking like a topping.

As in my tools crush them into a fine powder.

As in that is exactly what would happen to Slim Mc Breakable.

So then Scott asks more questions about the arrival of the Otterbox and I wander away feeling like I really don't want Slim Mc Breakable but everything else has a screen big enough to double as an end table, when I see it.

The Samsung Rugby Pro.

Fully Waterproof to three meters for thirty minutes. Can withstand being dropped, smashed and crushed and doesn't need an Otterbox. Has real touchable buttons on the front and not those invisible magic buttons. I pull the phone off the wall and take it over and am all like what about this phone?

Scott's face fell. Protectively he reached out and took Slim Mc Breakable from me. What followed was us taking turns on his phone to look up product reviews from each phone. Rugby against Slim Mc Breakable. He would point out Rugby had a slower processor and I would point out the Rugby had a fully sealing case. He would point out Slim was free with the plan where as Rugby was an extra hundred dollars and I pointed out it was my money and that Rugby had a stronger screen.

Finally sales lady said she would knock off ten bucks and that Rugby was one of thier best selling models and then I said sold and I bought that damn phone and the router. Then I am pretty sure Scott shot Slim Mc Breakable a tender broken hearted look. Then Sales Lady goes to move my contacts and SD chip over and I hand her my old phone and she pulls the back off and is like “is this sawdust?” And then we look down at the case and sure as shit there is a bunch of dirt and sawdust ground into the back where the battery fits and then I tell her I think I bought the right phone.

Then Scott had to agree and we went home and Scott made dinner and I fucked up sending a bunch of texts because the keyboard is tiny as shit and makes me feel like I have sausages for fingers.

Then Scott is all like, you know I think you really did get the better phone for your lifestyle and then I felt really good like maybe this whole new phone thing is going to work out well after all.

And then I accidentally sent my friend a bunch of blank texts because I kept hitting the send button instead of backspace.

Whoops.

A Mexican Cookie Assortment and Me.

So the other day we decided to make the trek to the OTHER town to the crazy super discount store. There is no good way to describe this grocery store. For one thing, everything in it is dented. I mean really dented. One time, I shit you not, they had those giant bags of ketchup, you know the kind that are supposed to fit inside dispensers with the word ketchup written on the bag in sharpie. In case there was any doubt. Also, the place has bare concrete floors, metal shelving and none of the price tags match anything. For example, the bottles of weird ass shampoo with the crumbled bottoms will be labeled 'seafood 1.99.'

Which basically makes it the greatest grocery store ever.

Except for the bit where they play religious music all the time. Also the whole place is staffed by Mennonite women and girls, in their traditional plain dresses and those weird hat bonnet things.

No really, I am not making any of this up. This place is real and I bought a Mexican Cookie Assortment there.

Anyway. We were about done shopping but then Scott remembered that he wanted to check something in another section in that winding maze of overstuffed shelving and tired looking poor people, and I decided to wait by the cart, when my eyes trailed down an large shelf filled with chips, tortillas, jam, and popcorn to the bottom shelf. To where there sat something called a cookie assortment. From Mexico.

 This.

 I must have picked it up and put it back on the shelf at least three times. There was part of me that really knew that this thing was not good for me, another part that wanted to stuff cookies in it's a face, a small part that knew this was a bad idea, and a really big part that hadn't eaten anything since breakfast and was really aware of the fact it was like late afternoon.

So I get it home and we have dinner and I have a few cookies, and immediately I am struck by the fact that none of these things taste, well normal. Look, okay growing up in America as I did, when I see a frosted sandwich cookie with white filling, I expect it to taste like bland vanilla and chocolate. Not lemons. Never lemon. No. Also they had those sugar rectangle things, that were flavored, like, strawberries, but not the super fake oh-my-god-have-you-ever-had-a-real-strawberry flavor, but more like this is like you took all the wrong parts of the strawberry and stuffed it into this cookie. I swear that I could taste the strawberry seeds in those bitches.

 All of this is a flavor lie.

Yet, I was pretty okay with it on the whole. I was broadening my shitty prepackaged cheap ass cookie horizons. I was being cookie multicultural.

So fast forward to the next morning. For whatever reason, I woke up thinking that the whole world could just fuck itself. I was pissed the shit off at everything ever. Which meant that I got up, ate breakfast and then proceed to stuff cookies in my face like I was in some sort of self hatred based eating contest. Which seemed to help. Until afternoon, when my entire intestinal track got word of what I had done.

And it was not happy about it.

At that point, huddled into a bloated crampy ball in front of my computer monitor I found myself wondering what on earth made me think that eating a shit ton of low priced Mexican cookies was a great idea.

At that point, I decided that the Internet was not doing enough to distract me from the internal war going on between the forces of Holly's innards and the Mexican cookie troops, so I decided to reread the Hunger Games.

At this point, I probably should not have trusted any more of my decisions, because if there is one book you should probably not read while bloated all to shit on fake ass south of the border cookies, it's the Hunger Games.

Which is how I ended up having some sort of cookie based mental breakdown in the bathroom while clutching the Hunger Games.

Suzanne Collins would be so proud.*

*Author of the Hunger Games.