This would be funny if it was not so true …

About two weeks back, Kennith and I went out to lunch.  There were two girls sitting next to me – probably in their mid-twenties – and they spent the entire lunch either taking photos of each other and posting them to where ever, or sms/tweating/facebooking or what ever.

Their conversation between them probably lasted to less than 5 – 10 minutes, whilst the remainder of the time they spent on their respective phones. I have no idea what they were doing.  My guess is telling everyone what a fabulous time they were having at the restaurant, and then LOL and OMG’ing along to what ever comments they got back.

Kennith is a little obsessed with his iphone – and I am hinting at the scale of it – he does not leave his iphone alone.

We are watching a movie.  Kennith is on his iphone.

We are driving.  Kennith is on his iphone.

We are eating a meal.  Kennith is on his iphone << though I think he has reduced this since I raised the issue a while ago>>.

The kids are going ape shit.  Kennith is on his iphone.

My phone it not an appendage it is merely a tool to ensure that should my kids be involved in an accident I will know about it.  However to contextualize the comment my phone is a Nokia XpressMusic, which is about as close as you can get to a piece of shit, other than putting an actual turd in your hand and using it to make and receive calls.

I really hate my phone.

I have a sneaky suspicion that iphones are a bit like remote controls for boys.  They must hold it all the time, and just keeping pushing the buttons – you know just because they can.  The beauty of an iphone is that you are surrounded by applications, so you can download them and sit and play with them, and then just as you start to maybe start interacting with real live people, you download another application and it all starts over again.

I have fantasies about taking the phone and throwing it over the wall, or atleast as far as I can throw it, which will probably bounce off the wall as I cannot get the range required to get it over the wall.

For now I think this image does sum up iphone irritation.

Leave a comment


  1. Taryn

     /  January 29, 2012

    OMG! lol. My husband is the same with his iPhone/iPad – through movies, dinner, first thing in the morning, last thing at night etc etc. Especially when our son is going apeshit. I cracked out laughing when I read that you have a nokia express music, that is the same phone I have. For a minute there you were talking about my life. I’m getting an iPhone next month though when I upgrade. Going over to the dark side. (Actually I think I’ll get a white one).
    I wonder sometimes about what the younger adults (20-somethings) and our kids are going to be like as sociable adults one day when they’re older – spending more time on social networks than actually chatting face to face for a proper catch up must be harmful to the development of social skills surely? Or maybe I’m just old school and will always prefer face to face but online communication is absolutely the way things work nowadays? I’m a little bit worried.

  2. Ok, I am the iPhone fan in our house and I better put it away right now ( although I am commenting from its bigger cousin the iPad at the moment) . But better put that away now too as the kids are destroying the lounge

  3. countesskaz

     /  January 28, 2012

    My phone is a R99 special from PEP. But what a mistake, the sound is so distorted i can barely hear what anyone is saying. Am just biding my time for the contract to expire. Note to self…(I atually hate it when people say note to self.. but anyway..) don’t drop phone in the bath if your’e to stingy to buy another!
    My hubby is also a tad addicted to his phone. I used to teach at our farm school and he used to pop in everyday and ask me about this and order me around about that and used to drive me insane…well the one day, I wordlessly looked at him, reached over calmly for his phone and threw his cellphone in a patch of rooi gras in the veld. I think the part with him on his hands and knees, with his arse in the air scrambling to look for his “baby”, taught him a lesson, and he never bothered me at school again!


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