I don’t think I even WANT answers.

I recently downloaded a word game, and this is one of the ads they show for a different game, and I have a LOT of questions.

Instagram eats more dick than I do.

I’ve had some thoughts loitering in the back of my brain about my current relationship-like experience, and its similarities to a past experience that was much worse, brain-wise.

So obviously, as further evidence of my iPhone’s forthcoming sentience, I went on Instagram and it was like, “Hey! You might know Past Experience!”

Fuck you, Instagram.

That’s OK, though — again, the beauty of getting over the much worse past experience is knowing that THIS experience, comparatively, ain’t shit.

In which one technology judges another. Also, there are pancakes.

I’m impressed with my suddenly seemingly stronger constitution, which did allow me to cry about my hurt feelings every chance I got for 36 hours, but then suddenly it was like, “Hey, you know what? Fuck you, Person Who Hurt Me,” and then there were pancakes and a new vibrator and everything was kind of OK again.

P.S. Oh, eat a dick, iPhone. You know good goddamn well what I meant, you judgey whore.

I sense your judgment and do not appreciate it.

Um, no, YOU’RE suddenly the kind of woman who stares at her phone waiting for a text.

…

Shut up.

The Not Ready For FaceTime Players

Now that a few days have passed and I’m sure there’s no more to this story…

The other day I looked at my phone and saw a missed FaceTime call from That Guy. I don’t use FaceTime, and he and I had never used it, so it was clearly just a misdial.

I’d always assumed it was customary to delete a woman’s number once she’d served her purpose, though I’d wager he’s deleted it now. I had deleted him as a contact a while back, oddly so I’d never call or text HIM accidentally, but I recognized the number.

And thank GOD I didn’t call him. Accident or no, and with apologies for my sexist generalization, a woman who did that would look like a goddamn psycho.

Using your phone as a…phone?!

Quotable Gary Gulman:

“To me, the phone is just this seldom-used app on my phone. And if you use it on me, I am fucking furious. How dare you? You call me unprovoked, out of the blue?

“Text me first to see if I’m even accepting phone calls today! And I will text you back with a window.

“It’s crazy that we even call the iPhone a phone. Calling it a phone is like calling a Lexus a cupholder.”

My iPhone is a little slutty.

I tried to type “Feb.” and my iPhone suggested “FWB.”

Jesus, iPhone. What have I been teaching you?

Autocorrecting Vagina

Dear Autocorrect,

When’s the last time you remember me using the word “cagina?”

How about “bagina?”

That’s right, NOT NEVER. Stop autocorrecting “vagina” to words that AREN’T WORDS!

“Vagina” is a word. A clinical one, at that. And it’s a word I use. Often. Learn “vagina,” iPhone. Love “vagina.”

No ladybit love,
Smug

In which my phone jumps to a very bold conclusion

I was texting a friend and started to type the word “smiley.”

I typed the S and the M, and my phone decided to help: it asked me if I meant “S&M.”

Um, NO, iPhone. It’s 8 am. I haven’t even had coffee yet. I certainly wasn’t thinking about S&M.

But now I am…