The Gore-Tex Android

February 9, 2015 at 11:40 am (The Easy Chair)

Had you told me, when I was a teenager, reading Robert Heinlein, Harlan Ellison and L Ron Hubbard, and seeing movies like The Man Who Fell to Earth, A Boy and His Dog, etc… that one day I would fall into the category of Gore-Tex Android? I’d have been thrilled, and my imagination would have far exceeded the result.

Yes, I am a Gore-Tex Android.

Getting the Gore-Tex part out of the way, it refers to my rain coat. I’ve gone on about it, and while I haven’t put its full rain-proofing to the test, I do appreciate the extra layer of wind-breakage and stash-pockets for hats, gloves, and the occasional jug of medicated vitamin water. Full disclosure: It has a pocket for my reading glasses. I’d not previously made room for such things in my travels.

The exciting part of the new title, for me, is Android. (It’s not a nickname for a singular outgrowth from my backside.) I’m taking another baby-step toward the future.

Yup. Smartphone.

I’m not one to jump on technology bandwagons. When ThatGirl first bought an iPhone, I oohed and aahed, looked on politely, and while it was cool, I felt I spent enough time looking at a screen. Do I really want access all the time? Well, yes. Do I want to spent $3-400, plus $100 a month for the privilege? I would if I’d had it, but I’m but a lowly minion on a small income. The netbook allowed my web-fixes, until computers and radios were banned at work. I was given a pass for the netbook, because I used it to fight store crime, but wi-fi was spotty, and staring at the screen kept me from staring at the perps wandering around. I amused myself with newspapers, and became a texting wizard with my QWERTY cell phone.

StylusI will miss my cell phone, mostly because I can text and dial while walking. A touch-screen as opposed to a raised letter keyboard means I have to stop, put on reading glasses and pull out the cute hot-pink stylus. Yes, I have encountered many eyerolls asking women, “Wanna see my hot-pink stylus?” I had found it on the floor of the Nightclub Store a year or two ago, and filed it along with a purple rubber cell phone protective casing. I figured I might need them some day.

My trip to the phone store started at Cricket, after I received a text stating Lord Qwerty would be passing on to cyber heaven at the end of January. I received a follow-up text telling me to disregard the previous text, so I went in person to find out whazzup?

“We were wrong. You have until the end of March.”


Cricket had a phone, almost just like mine, and it’d only cost me about $100 to keep the same service I had. I understand keeping up with the times, but this seemed like a cash-grab. I decided to check out the enemy, MetroPCS.

Rain had been pestering me to go with her to buy a new phone, because it was buy-one-get-one. Only catch, you had to activate the same day. When this happened I’d had no warning my service was about to take a dump, so I politely declined. (I’m trying to keep Rain as far away from my finances as possible these days.) In hindsight, I wish I’d listened, but we know how that works. I’d be pissy I wasted money when I didn’t have to. Sigh.

I microchipped photos and ringtones, and began deleting all the fun stuff from the old phone. Since the new phone company didn’t want my old phone, I could keep all the emails and ringtones. Or so I thought. Pictures went through just fine. I shocked myself at how much girlfriend porn I had on my phone. I considered deleting it, but it looked so much better in hi-def. I soon discovered it would bury itself to the bottom if I took more pictures, so I started snapping, and soon my photo gallery looked more innocent. Well, maybe not innocent, but the folks behind me on the bus don’t squirm as much these days. When Rain asked with a smile if I’d saved any pictures of her, I smiled and said “I have two or three I could share.”

Ringtones are another story. The ones on the phone are like wind chimes, or soft jazz. They don’t have the waking power of the Theme to Dudley Do-Right, or Pinky and the Brain. When a phone goes off on the bus, I am one of three digging to see if it’s me. Hoping to correct that soon.

I have yet to download an app, and I won’t do Facebook on it. I like being able to read Twitter on the way home; I catch up on the day during the commute and have an extra half-hour before dinner/crash. I was worried about breakage, but Angel steered me to a store at the Ghetto Mall with covers and screen-savers at a rate that doesn’t match the cost of the phone. I now have a little rubber brick with a matte-screen finish that looks like a sleek transistor radio. Basic black, of course. I have pierced-nipples Billy from Dysfunctional Fambly Circus as my wallpaper, so you know which phone is mine.

Now if I can keep from dropping it into the toilet…

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