Wednesday, February 18, 2009

New Phone, New Problems

For whatever reason, it seems that the last phone I had decided to crap out on me and stop allowing the receiver to work. Basically, this meant that the few people who called me would hear me explaining this problem to them while they yelled 'CAN YOU HEAR ME? NOW? NO? HELLO? NOW?' as I dejectedly told them that I had no idea what they were saying, because I couldn't hear them.

After visiting the Verizon store, I was told that something inside the charge terminal (or whatever spacetalk term they used) broke off and now made my phone thing that I was using a Bluetooth. They also asked if I had tried using the Speakerphone option. Of course, being the infinite hub of wisdom that I am, I replied to them that no, I had not; nor had I even thought of it.

Needless to say, it worked; and for the next week, while my (free!) replacement was being shipped to me, fellow SUNY Buffalo students rejoiced in hearing my family, friends, and I shouting at each other through my confused little phone. Finally the new phone came, however, and oh how excited I was! It could make calls, receive calls, send texts, receive texts, all like my older phone, but newer and shinier (honestly, it is shinier)!

Around Tuesday evening, I decided that it would be a good idea to celebrate having an 8pk of Guinness by drinking one, so I pull out my travel mug (you know, in case I had to drink on the go), and fill it up. My ex-girlfriend had travelled home on train for the weekend for a family emergency, so I decided to text her to see how everything was and when I would be picking her up. It's about this time when my new phone supposed that it was parched.

Not even Michael Phelps could have pulled off so beautiful a dive (probably because he swims and doesn't dive); I was flabberghasted, unsure of what to do next. Some of the Guinness splashed out and soaked everything on my desk: newspapers, homework assignments, my laptop, and probably something else. After long deliberation (probably like a minute), I realised that I should be trying to save the phone.

Off I ran to the bathroom, Guinness in hand, yelling 'awshit awshit awshit awshit', pouring out all of it caramel creamy goodness down the sink to see my poor new phone convulsing in a show of lights that either signified Morse Code or a mini-rave. As anyone familiar with electronics would do, my first instinct was to pull out the battery, so it wouldn't short-circuit. The battery, however, was fiercely locked into the phone and refused to come out. Some finagling finally freed it, after a minute or two of struggle. It was somewhere during this that I yelled 'damn it!' about as loud as I could.

Returning to my room with the damaged replacement, and going to my Clorox wipes to clean off the desk, my roommate, who was this whole time reading a magazine, looks up and says, 'huh? did something happen or something?'

Today, after letting it dry, I've realised that somehow the keypad no longer recognises the B, H, or Y keys properly: B gets me a return with nmb, H a backspace followed by lkj, and Y now equals poiu. The frontscreen works on and off, with a white foam rising over it like a cararact; and the key colour went from bright white to a dull brown. Now that I think of it, some of my punctuations don't work, either. I am in no denial over the fact that the inside of my phone is probably covered by a syruppy residue that will haunt me for the next year or so.

All in all, it could be worse, but it's going to be hard texting. Tis is not a good waj to talk to people for a wole jear; trust me after a daie its gotten annojing.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Barack West?

I just had the strangest dream, wherein I was somehow privy to President Obama's friendship and we were discussing religion; but that's not the important part, because it was only a frame for the rest of my dream.

As it turned out in my dream, Obama was actually a very popular rap star, he was kind of like a Kanye West with Dirty South beats. Anyway, he used Hip Hop to fling himself into popularity while spreading his message, and also dabbed a little with politics on the side, until finally deciding to run for President. Of course (as in real life), he won and the rest was mostly the same as in real life, except that he had one last single to release. Well, maybe more like a remix... somewhat.

Basically, after he won the Election in November, Barack Obama released a very popular single that was dedicated to his son (yeah, I don't know what happened to Malia or Sasha; but his son was about Sasha's age - maybe it was just for the music video, but that would still be an awkward choice to make). In the music video, which played in my dream, Obama was walking to the door of his house to leave, rapping to his son about presidential responsibility, being a man, and about America - things of that nature.

Of course in my dream the song was such a hit that it was played non-stop, but for some reason upon taking the Oath of Office, the new President wasted to diversify. Apparently, the song carried very strong Christian undertones; and though not bad, Barack wanted to kind of bridge himself to people of other faiths in the video, too. However, from what I saw until I woke up, it stayed pretty Abrahamic.

Basically, as I said, Obama had walked to the door. From what I remember, in the original he opens it to paparazzi and then something with a limo and the White House or something. In the remix, he has invited over some prominent Black Jewish (he was too American looking to be a Beta Jew, but anything's possible, I mean Barack is related to a Black Rabbi) rapper, who is standing at the door with a large golden menorah and two half-naked girls behind him.

He lets out a Lil' Jon type of 'Yeah!!' and then the screen flashes with rotating 3-D text that says 'Barack Obama MIXTAPE Part 2', and the beat goes from a very intelligent groove to an actually Dirty South thing, with the guest rapper spewing flow like a tidal wave next to his car, crouching by his chrome rims. I think he raps about the struggles of Black Jews and how he hopes that this new Administration brings unity. Also, there is talk about having mad bitches due to his fame.

As his rap is coming to a close, he walks back up the steps to Obama's house, only to meet a new guest. This guest is from Britain, by his accent, but by the look of him, he is definitely originally from some part of Northern Africa (not just skin-wise, you racists, his garb was very traditional). They greet each other, and then ring Obama's doorbell. They ask Obama if they can come in, but the new guy says, 'but could you do me on favour?' 'Sure,' says the Jewish rapper, 'what's that?' 'Change the beat!'

Again 3-D rotating text 'MIXTAPE Part 3', but the beat totally changes to slow lowfi Dub. The new guy, it turns out, is an African British Moslem. The music video is all greenscreen, the rapper sitting like an imam and all around him are mosques and palm trees with the sky something like dawn or dusk (probably dusk, as it is party music). His singing is something like reggae style mixed in with adhan. Before the Moslem singer sits Obama in traditional garb, hearkening back to his days in Indonesia. It was an amazingly chill beat.

At some point, I think they would have wound back around to the original song, and definitely there were probably more artists to come, but I woke up, in a state of disbelief, and decided to share my dream with the Internet. Because I have no other life.