After years employing an old-fashioned Blackberry as my cell phone, I finally broke down and bought a spiffy new iPhone yesterday. I can’t deny it’s an amazing device. And I’m sure I’ll come to love its marvelous and diverse features once I learn how to use it properly. At present, I’m still getting the hang of the touch screen. The results thus far have admittedly been mixed, as my experimentation with the unit has already subjected me and others to some unexpected outcomes.
Though I’m not sure who’s received the biggest surprise from my iPhone snafus to date, I can certainly identify the leading candidates.
First there’s my brother. In my inaugural attempt to draft an e-mail, I successfully input Frank’s address in the “To” field and then typed a joke message. I was simply trying to get a feel for the virtual keyboard and didn’t intend to transmit anything yet. But in attempting to scroll the touch screen, my thumb accidentally hit the “Send” button and off my transmission went, carrying its greeting: “Howdy, you giant douchebag! Don’t forget to fondle yourself today.” Frank unfortunately wasn’t the first person to read my message either. As with all work e-mails received while he was in court, Frank’s secretary read the missive to him over the phone … while two other secretaries and their attorneys listened in.
Second was my mother-in-law. While perusing apps available for purchase in the “App Store,” I became curious to see whether (and which) adult applications were on offer. Not that I meant to buy any, but I still wanted to know my options. As it happened, a number of apps for adults appeared. I selected one, intending only to see how the purchasing process functioned. I pressed the “Buy” button and input my password, expecting to see a subsequent screen which would allow me to cancel the purchase. Only, no further screen displayed and my new app proceeded to download. I couldn’t figure out how to delete the downloaded item so its icon remained on my screen … to be activated last night by my mother-in-law, when my “helpful” wife showed the contraption to her. I’ll tell you, Maria certainly raised her eyebrows at the sight of the fully illustrated depictions contained in “72 Sex Positions.”
Third were the court reporter, two lawyers and witness at the deposition I took this morning. Having seen the myriad of songs available for purchase in the iTunes store, I went a bit overboard last night and purchased a dozen separate ringtones to apply for my closest friends and family. In the case of my best friend, Ned Stilzman, I went with an explicit version of a hip-hop song I like. The problem was, I didn’t know how to put the phone on silent mode. I mistakenly thought that turning off the button beneath the setting for “Ringer and Alerts” accomplished this task. Of course it didn’t, as I and everyone else at the deposition learned this morning when Ned called … and my iPhone blared portions of the tune “Writer’s Block,” including the immortal refrains: “Bitches on my dick” and “I don’t give a fuck.”