Being married certainly changes things. Like how it's more expensive to dump your woman after you get married. I knew that going in. I did not know it was going to change my phone. You see, my wife got the idea that it would be cheaper to add me to her plan instead of maintaining two separate accounts with two separate carriers. She's right, it will save us money, but in the meantime it has been a royal pain in my big fat ass.
For starters, I had to call and cancel my account with Cingular (or AT&T now I guess since they got taken over or some shit). So I got on the phone and called them up to tell them I was canceling my account. So the uneducated fuck on the other end of the line pulls up my account to close it, and sees that I've been a customer since 2001. This presents the first big problem. I'm apparently such a good customer that they feel it's important to go to any lengths possible to annoy me into staying with them. So rather than listen to me when I say "Cancel my fucking account," they play 20 questions. Why am I canceling my account? What was wrong with my service? What's my favorite color? Would I like to try a new phone or a different plan? Would I like to add my wife to my account instead of the other way around? When did I lose my virginity? And so on and so forth.
So finally I convinced the assholes to close my account, only after I had promised them if I don't like my new carrier I will come back to Cingular and bring my wife with me. So next on the list was to switch over to the new company, which naturally meant I would get a new phone. Here's where all the trouble REALLY started. A couple days after my new account got set up, a little brown package got set out at my front door with my shiny new phone inside.
So I opened up the package and...almost threw my phone away with the bubble wrap. This fucking phone is so fucking small. I could put the phone in my hand, make a fist, and nobody would know I had anything in my hand. It's so small it could hide behind my penis. (Side note: when my wife read this last sentence she said "That's not true," so you heard it right from the source, my tiny, crooked penis is even smaller than my microscopic phone.) It's such a pain in the ass because my fat fingers are bigger than the keys I'm dialing. When I try to dial I hit three numbers at once so I have to use the tip of a pen to dial.
And not only is it the tiniest God damn phone ever made, for some reason it's also the most complicated to use. The instruction manual that came with the phone is about eight times the size of the phone itself. I haven't seen a book this size since my last Calculus textbook. I can't force myself to read through all of it in one sitting, so I've got it sitting on the toilet and every time I've taken a shit for the last week, I've been trying to wade my way through the manual. So far I've figured out how to set the alarm and change my ring tone to any one of the 10 annoying, shitty tones available. Oh and that's another thing. I'm supposed to be able to connect to the internet with this piece of shit so I can find a marginally less annoying ring tone. But of course I can't. Because it's a piece of shit.
Oh yeah, and you have to fight with it to get the fucking thing to turn on or off. Fuck my phone. Just fuck it.
P.S. - I don't know how when I originally wrote this I forgot the Jesus hands graphic that comes up when you first turn the phone on.