Advertisements

Blog Archives

Letters to Those Involved

My phone miraculously disappeared at some point on the night of Saturday 01/26/2013. It’s whereabouts were finally recovered at approximately 6:30 pm Monday night. After I wrote this post…

missingphone

Dear stranger and/or really bad friend who took my phone,

I hope you didn’t hack my Iphone security code, although it would have only taken you something like 15 million different guesses. I figure that you could have easily try 30 different combinations every minute, which means it would have only taken you a little less than a year to figure it out if the last number you guessed was the correct one. Obviously that doesn’t make any sense, even if it was correct math. But if you got lucky and gained access on your first try, there are things that you need to know:

I am not responsible for the last search in my internet browser. Any voice memos of singing are also a mystery and definitely not me. And, if you even try to tinker with my blog I will find you, and I will kill you. Got it?

Dear AT&T sales guy,

I do not usually look like a frantic homeless person. My hair was still pretty though, right? I was impressed.

I think it is ridiculous that you can not help me locate my Iphone using all of that technology stuff, but Facebook on the other hand, always knows precisely where I am and isn’t afraid to tell everyone without my discretion.

And just so you know, you probably made the easiest sale of your life Sunday morning. You can thank Jim Beam and the gay men of the Krewe of Apollo.

Dear Canes Chicken Fingers,

I have nothing bad to say about you. You were delicious, and for a brief moment while I was stuffing my face of you, I forgot about everything that I lost that day.

After writing such a dramatic post and finally finishing re-downloading all of my apps onto my new Iphone, I got the call that my phone was recovered. Shit happens.  

becca cord signature

Advertisements

Life Glitch

Inexplicable things happen every day. Glitches in the matrix. Coincidences. Alien invasions. Call it what you will.

I recently experienced this very phenomenon. I have no certain explanation for the events that I am about to describe to you. Welcome to the twilight zone. The good one that doesn’t involve shimmery vegan vampires.

keanu with banana

Keanu with a banana phone. You can’t explain that.

It was Sunday, and rather than leaving myself winded from completing  tasks on my lengthy to-do list, I fucked off instead. Football was on. I don’t usually watch it unless the Saints are playing, but it was the perfect distraction on which to blame my lack of productivity. Plus, a friend of mine actually wanted to hang out. I thought I would give that a shot. Apparently, it is a popular thing to do among the internetless.

After a burger and a bloody mary, we were already in tears over attempting to sext a random number, which is actually quite a challenge. You can’t just start blurting out sexyness all over the place. You have to be mindful that four-year-olds have cell phones these days, and that some people simply do not appreciate a good sext. On top of that, you have to know how to properly woo your unsuspecting sextual partner. Don’t worry, chance sexting is not to be confused with full on text rape. But that’s enough of that.

Once I had been repeatedly shot down by what was probably a seventy year old woman, I slinked off home to face my to-do list, which now had an addendum that read: change telephone number.  Unfortunately for my to-do list, I caught wind of more friends (insanity!) at a different venue while driving to my apartment and veered off course yet again. This kind of shit just doesn’t happen every day. I had to take advantage.

Many waffle fries and not an ounce of shame later, I finally forced myself home. I walked into my room to spot my bare mattress and proceeded to throw a slight tantrum at the sight of it. I remember grabbing the sheet and pillow cases out of the dryer. I remember stuffing each pillow into its correct sham. I remember beating them smooth. I remember that the comforter was draped securely over the foot of my bed. I even remember laughing at Jack’s lack of disturbance by all of the dismantled bedding.

Then, nothing. No consciousness. No memory.

At some point, in what I assume was the early morning, I awoke. My clothes were on and I was laying backwards in my bed. My head was perfectly placed in the center of my pillow pile at the foot of the bed. I was half way underneath the sheet which never made it to its correctly tucked position. Jack was there,  oblivious as he slept. Groggy, I stood up feeling no sense of time. Where is my phone? Why are all of the lights on?

Then nothing again.

The next time I awoke, I was right side up in my bed with my cell phone neatly plugged into its charger on the dresser next to me but with no alarm set.

Luckily, I woke up naturally in time to dress for work, but the question still remains. What happened to me? I was not intoxicated, nor was I overly exhausted. I am also quite certain that I am not narcoleptic. Did I sleep walk? Did aliens abduct me for a while? Was I roofied by my friends? Where was Keanu? You tell me.

Thanks to everyone who contributed comments on the post in which I greedily begged for post ideas. Y’all are some deep thinking fools. Morpheus would be proud.  

becca cord signature

Make Your Camera Disposable, Not Your Adventure

disposable camera

[Hey, remember me? I know that I am responsible for that embarrassing picture your mom found of you and your high school boyfriend making out, but Instagram still ain’t got nothing on me.]

If you want to successfully relive your escapades, my suggestion is to invest in a disposable camera. You’re welcome Kodak. I carried out this plan as I traveled last month. If you have trouble finding one of these at your local store, just look next to the fanny packs and pocket protectors. I understand that disposable cameras are equivalent to reverting back to VHS, but I do have a sound argument for resorting to something so seemingly obsolete.

My trip marked my second time ever flying in an airplane, my first time traveling out of the south as an adult, and my first big vacation that I have funded entirely on my own. Naturally, I anticipate taking photos of my time there.

I know what you are thinking. Does she not have an omnipotent smart phone or something? Of course I do. What am I a cave woman? In fact, some would say I qualify as a camera phone abuser as I even take pictures of pictures. This is where the problem exists, and upon admitting my denial of said abuse, I did reach an epiphany. Read the rest of this entry

Me Vs. Mom Vs. Siri

Siri voice command

Driving on long boring road trips, like I did the last weekend, really does wonders for writer’s block. Not that I ever get that. You really have no choice but to let your mind wander. I found my thoughts rolling on top each other, connecting and branching out into explosions of thinking awesomeness. I can only imagine the inside of my head as looking like The Symbiote but less scary. Lacking pen and paper and furthermore, the skill to write anything legible while driving down the highway, I had to use my cellphone. I typed my thoughts in the notepad app. I can feel the judgmental *don’t text and drive* stares. I get it. I only did this because I had a friend in the car, and I didn’t want her to think I’d gone all Whoopi Goldberg on her with my body being invaded by a spirit. I was afraid she would do a tuck and roll out of the vehicle (I’ve watched the movie Ghost way too many times). Anyway, had I been alone, the voice memo recorder is wonderful for capturing thought blurbs on the go.

Other efficient ways in which I use modern cell phone technology:

  • I couldn’t live without Pandora Radio. I open this app before I even brush my teeth in the morning.
  • It is super convenient and easy to send pictures from my phone to my e-mail or Twitter in seconds.
  • If I need to search something lengthy while driving, I use the Google app with the handy voice search.
  • I do almost all of my banking right there on my phone. I can even deposit checks up to $1000.

How my mom uses modern technology:
Note: She has a more advanced version of the Iphone than I do. Unbelievable.

  • Is afraid to say inappropriate things to Siri because she “is afraid she will get in trouble”. Seriously Mom?
  • Finally gets ballsy and makes me listen to her curse at Siri to evoke (in her mind) hilarious responses.
  • Words With Friends
  • Words With Friends
  • Words With Friends
  • Draw Something
  • Words With Friends

Doesn’t she know Words With Friends is so last year?

becca cord signature

Rule of Three

Shattered Iphone Screen

Rule of Three: The idea that things happen in threes… more specifically/especially negative things. Also known as the poison ivy of bad luck.

Someone needs to deliver me some calamine lotion stat, because I believe my Iphone and I just went through a bad case of this theory. This sort of thing is so familiar to me that I could feel it coming. When I initially was given the phone, it only took two blissful and carefree months before my hand-held jewel became shattered by the very clumsy hands that held it. Having received my Iphone as a birthday gift a couple of years ago, I guess it was only a matter of time before it met its fate again.

Misfortune #1 – Sitting on my balcony hammering away at my keyboard after work one day last week, I lost track of time. Exhausted and surely one mosquito bite away from West Nile disease, I decided to call it a night. My mind is stubborn and conceited in thinking I can carry more items than I have appendages. You should see me carry groceries in from the store. Making more than one trip is not an option. Read the rest of this entry

%d bloggers like this: