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Will the person who invented technology please take it away from my MOM?!

Whose idea was it to create a multi functional, portable device that could easily slide into the back pocket of your most ill fitting jeans? Probably the same asshole that gave one to your mother! It took my mom a few years to grasp the concept of technology; but then one day she took a big ole bite out of Apple–and things have never been the same.

Brring! Brring! Pick up the phone... It's your MUTHA!

"Hi honey! Remember that case you got me last year when I thought I was getting an iPad for Christmas?" She began, "Well... Guess what I just bought?"

"Wow, first the iPhone, now this? Boy, you're really stepping' up your game, mom–cool! How many gigs?" I asked, not thinking about the repercussions.

"Oh for Christ's sake, what the hell is a gig?" She snapped, "Dick said it's a two. Does that answer your question?" *Sigh* "Not really, mom. Two is the generation, the gig is... Uh... You know what? Never-mind."

I could already feel my head throbbing from the technical support calls I was about to start receiving. "You're gonna have to help me figure this damn thing out, you know?" She advised, while simultaneously pressing the volume button all the way down to zero. "Lisa? Lisa? Hellooooo?" 

Mom! I can HEAR you!

I listen impatiently as she presses a few sporadic buttons and blows into the phone, "Oh for Pete's sake, what the hell is wrong with this stupid thing anyway? If you can hear me, call me back on my landline, there's something wrong with this phone! I don't know why I listened to you and bought this piece of shit in the first place. Thanks a lot!" *Click*

Brring! Brring! Pick up the phone... It's your MUTHA!

"Yes mother," I answered, while sifting through my ringtones for less obnoxious warning. "Why'd you hang up on me?" she asked, "I was calling your name, didn't you hear me?"

I spent the next fifteen minutes explaining the difference between volume, mute and END; and when I hung up the phone, I was confident that she had absolutely no idea what the hell I was talking about. Between my part-time job as personal software engineer and my full-time job as professional underachiever, my life was going nowhere. It got so bad at one point that I started using an old headset that didn't work–just so she'd get frustrated and hang up... "Honey? I can't hear a damn word you are saying. Hellooooo? Oh to hell with this, I'll just talk to you later."

The idea of texting is a brilliant one–on a grand master plan with your friends; but there's a fine line between socializing and unpaid labor... And it's high time I start getting paid for this shit.

Just kidding mom! (Not really.)

sassypiehole

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