Just what I suspected.
He is way more adept at newfangled gadgets than I am. Take for example an iPod Touch. He bought both of us our own about three years ago so we could take them on a trip to Vegas and watch movies and stuff. Know how many movies I actually downloaded and watched on mine? One. It was a good one - Superbad - but honestly watching movies on that thing gives me a headache. He downloads all kinds of stuff to his. As a matter of fact, I discovered a week ago that he is at least one model newer than I am. I guess the old one never bothered me enough to bitch about it.
So then I got a newer Nano. This one apparently takes photos and little movies and stuff. Have I tried it? Nope. But it is so pretty and shiny and purple!
My Blackberry was probably the most underutilized phone in the history of the planet. I could make calls, text people, do some limited internet surfing and look at Facebook. Is there anything else I could possibly use it for? Oh, and check email. I did that a lot until I decided that I didn't want work email on it anymore because I got tired of people expecting me to respond. I mean really, people - I can't answer work emails when I'm getting pedicures. It's too distracting and throws my mojo off.
Today, I got a phone call from the nice Indian couple that owns the local cellular place. They are really lovely people that I found quite by accident - they tolerate my lack of interest in all the new-fangled stuff, and every year or so I pop in there and get some whizbang phone that can launch the Space Shuttle while it makes perfect hospital corners on my bed. And then I proceed to own a Smart Phone that clearly lives up to its name by being way smarter than its operator. Ahem. Anyhow, they informed me kindly that it was time for me to upgrade so I zipped on over there and got myself a Droid 2 with extra insurance (yes, preparing for puppy teeth) and some extra screen covers.
I can't figure out how to work the damn thing. Good thing we're heading out of town again and will be locked in the casinos for days, which are notorious for poor cellphone coverage. Maybe by the time we get home I can at least figure out how to make a phone call. I even got one with a slide-out keyboard because I have such big meaty fingers (a la Fred Flintstone) that a touchscreen sends me into fits of rage. But can I make a simple phone call? Nooooo. Sausage Fingers can't do it without dialing some foreign country with my fat old fingers.
Tonight, I settled in here to fill out the important application stuff for that Fortune 100 job I'm applying for. And dammit, I ended up pressing a wrong button and they rejected my application! I feel like I need to change my underwear now. I sent the appropriate groveling email to the recruiting department explaining that I misunderstood the question and that yes, I am actually a natural-born U.S. citizen and don't need a green card. Oy. I feel fairly sure that they will reject me simply on the premise that if I couldn't get through three questions without screwing up, there's no way I'm going to be able to handle a job there even if it is janitorial work. I hear all those guys have IT degrees anyway.
I'm thinking that I would've been way more suited for pioneer days, although I probably would've screwed up churning my own butter too.