Wednesday, December 1, 2021

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #432: DEATH THROES

 Its finally happening. Years after planned obsolescence, my phone is in its death throes. It's been dying a slow death, but its built in life span has reached the very end. I'm going to need to get a new one, and that sucks.


Whenever I get technology, I get the top of the line because I know I'm going to use it until I literally can't anymore. Most of my writing is done on a desktop computer more than 15 years old. It glitches sometimes, but it still works. The phone, on the other hand, is losing most of its capabilities. Asking it to access Twitter is an exercise in futility. Facebook still works, more or less, for what that's worth. Texting is not reliable, especially if it's a group text. Sometimes I can get a text but can't respond to it. Going online with a browser? Ha! Don't even ask.


The only things that work are actual phone calls and my alarm clock. And the alarm only works under a specific set of circumstances which I've perfected. At least for now.


The problem is, I can't afford a new phone. Well, this upcoming payday I can afford either my car insurance or a phone. Considering my bad luck with the car, I'm paying the fucking insurance. Hopefully the payday after that I will be able to get a new phone.


In the meantime, if you have my number and need to contact me, don't bother. I will probably not even know you tried to text me. If you're on my social media, the best shot is to get my attention there. I may not respond right away, but I will respond.


I've been on a decade plus of bad fucking luck right now, and I'll probably never pull out of it at this point. Did you hear that?!


RIP Mr. Lahey, sorry the shithawks got ya, bud.


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