Cell 3:The Death of Goodship Greenie Part 2

As many of you have read in the previous post, Cell 3 - The Death of Goodship Greenie, this is day 2 of my captainship of the rescue ship(phone), HMS Candy Apple.

This is a shoddy vessel(phone) at best. The whole thing feels like it is about to come apart in your hand, and I don't know how long she'll hold. I have been searching the horizon(Internet) for a rescue ship(new phone), can see none in sight that I feel up to commandeering. The choices on these shiny new vessels(phones) are far too much for this humble Captain's mind to wrap around.

Meanwhile, aboard the wanton hussy of a rescue (phone)vessel HMS Candy Apple, rations are running low, several of my contacts have scurvy, and it is really really hard to text.

I have considered many options of new vessels(phones), but cannot come to a decision, and need to before the cracks in the Candy Apple start getting bigger, which looks to be soon what with the rough waters I am navigating. Hope is holding out that we will see a ship soon, and that she will have more than enough room for all of my crew(contacts).

I sail this shoddy vessel into this holiday weekend in hopes that it can make it till next week. She has to make it to next week. There is no other choice.

I will write more when I know more, and not a bit more till then.

Stephen Gregory Smith
Captain of the HMS Candy Apple

Cell 3 - The Death of Goodship Greenie

When you are sitting at the bar and everyone whips out their flat screen smart phones, it makes your phone and you seem dumb. Especially when you have had it for years and it looks like a pair of jeans that you have had since 1998. Which "Greenie" does look like. Like my former phone, it ate my face. I had black gaff tape over the metal so it could not make it's metal contact with my cheeks, eating in with every phone call.

It didn't take pictures, it did barely anything, but it was free.

So "Greenie" was fine with me.

"Greenie" started to exhibit erratic behavior of late, shutting off randomly, and not keeping it's charge. This behavior began to escalate, and I was sick of it.

In the meanwhile, there are calls to be made and texts to be responded to.
Thus started this morning's quest. Now faithful readers of this blog will recall my other epic battles involving cell phone drama - the first being my battling zombies and The Kiosk Queen,
Then I had to return and fight her and the zombies a second time.

Finally there was the death of Mr. Goodbar and launch of Candy Apple.
Now, literally speaking, I just finished reading Dan Simmons' The Terror, which tells the tale of Captain Francis Crozier in his expedition to find the North West Passage in the 1800's, so much of what you are about to read comes through me, via that.







I started the day yesterday and knew as I looked at Greenie to see the time and as soon as I picked the frail thing up, she shut off. I knew right then that her time was done. Whether scurvy, or some other illness had claimed her, I knew that she was no longer in fit shape to sail. I ran to my reserve phone chest...(which to be frank is a yellow plastic Garfield lunch box that I have had since the first grade - it now is a box in which I store old cell phones and chargers - SPECIFICALLY for this emergency situation)..

I pulled out my old standby vessel, Mr. Goodbar.



After assessing his seaworthiness, and after charging him for an hour to no avail, I knew that he would sink one mile out. That left only - Candy Apple.

Oh Candy Apple. How I loathe thee.





But she was the last rescue ship available, so she would have to do. Until we reached our new rescue ship in several days, we (or rather I) would have to make due with the rotten old Candy Apple and hope she would stay afloat long enough.
Now I never liked Candy Apple. She was a wanton ship. Hard to steer, flimsy in construction, and really difficult to text from. Greenie replaced her about 3 years ago, and until now, had been just enough ship(phone) for me.
I was never into those fancy rigs...you know the ones..."Smart Phones"...pesky things that light up like a billboard and drain their own battery charge within the first hour you have them off the cord. I didn't want to ever get one of those because I didn't want the temptation of always being able to jump onto the Internet, for fear of NEVER BEING OFF OF THE DAMN THING. But it is a wee bit embarrassing when everyone pulls out their smart phones and you pull out what looks like a toy phone from the 90's.Yet I would shrug off that feeling of phone envy and try to be tough about it. I'd say *with an inflection of braggadocio* "Aww, who needs one of those tin cans. All I need is a phone that works. I don't need bells or whistles...if I want to get online, I will get on a computer, if I want a camera, I'll use my camera. This phone suits me just fine."

Oh yeah.

That has always been my rebel without a smart phone stance.

It makes sense in a way...I don't even like different kinds of food that I eat to touch each other on the plate - so why would I want a phone to be a computer and a camera at the same time? That's CRAZY talk! I like things plain and simple, cut and dried.

But then...I started seeing things that they could do.

Did you know that you can get weather radar screens on those things? I could check the radar from wherever I was at any time...how many times have I thought - I wish I could see a radar right now...now I could, if I chose to...

But I digress. I had decided to sail out Greenie's remaining days as long as she would sail, and when the time was right, then - and only then - would I decide if I wanted to buy a phone that was "smarter" than myself.

But then Greenie decided to cut her time shorter than even I had thought. So we have decisions to make.

But first - I need to evacuate the ship.
The main problem being that Greenie decided to shut off about once a minute. Since my "Sim" card was full, and many of my current contact numbers were saved to the phone, not the Sim card, I needed to erase numbers from the Sim card and save other numbers to the Sim card that were only saved to the phone before. But the trick here was that the phone would shut off every minute or so.

So I had seconds at a time to scroll down Greenie's (roster) Contacts and decide who was unfit to sail on Candy Apple until we all reached the new rescue(phone) ship. So many shipmates were deleted. So many people that I realized that I never talk to anymore were erased. My thinking was that if I have not talked to them in the past 2 years, I don't need their number. Also, the advent of Face Book has rendered calling many of these people useless. If I want to get in touch with some of them, I could write to them on Face Book. Impersonal? Maybe. But there were some numbers that I really wouldn't want to call anyway.

Seriously, look through your phone's contact numbers - you will find many numbers in there that make you think...?...why do I have their number - what could we possibly discuss? Or - Who is that? How do I know a Denise? Etc. Or Patti LuPone. Why do I have her number in my cell phone? Am I going to call her and catch up any time soon? "Hey Patti, remember when we did that show together in 2005? Wasn't that fun? yeah...just calling to say hey. Hey Patti. "

Yeah. It's not gonna happen. Deleted.

All the while, Greenie keeps shutting off every minute or so.

I'm literally at the gym, on the Elliptical doing this, scrolling down, deleting, or saving from phone to Sim those who previously were only saved to phone due to lack of room on Sim.

I'm panting, and focused like a mad man on Greenie's tiny screen. My eyes are wide, I am a sweaty mess, all the while deleting and saving...S...I've made it to the "S"'s. Power off.

DAMN!

In a mad moment of me thinking in the thoughts of the book I just read and the analogy of Candy Apple as a lifeboat making total sense in my head, though I have not shared any of these thoughts with Matt...who is at the elliptical to my left - I blurt out "I'm at "S"! I almost have all crew to the rescue boat!!!"

He doesn't even really pay attention to what I have said. He looks at me for a second, then goes back to watching the TV. I am quietly grateful for this, as I realize my madness has been verbalized.

I finally get through all contacts and press save to Sim card. It begins saving.

...

...

...

It is a breathless several minutes as the long save is taking place - me praying that Greenie doesn't shut off in the middle of the process - thus rendering all of my work pointless.

Finally, the save was complete.

I quickly powered Greenie down and said a few words from Psalms quietly. I then performed an autopsy. I cracked open Greenie's back and pulled out her Sim card. I slid her Sim card into the wanton hussy Candy Apple's back and promptly stitched her up. I pressed "Power on" and she vibrated to life. I immediately rolled my eyes upon seeing her tired old screen and wallpaper. She was a shoddy ship, but she would have to do. I put Greenie's remains in my gym locker, and took Candy Apple back out to finish my work out.

So here we are at day 2 aboard Candy Apple. Still no rescue ship(phone) in sight and none likely to be until payday...this is two days from now. We can only hope that Candy Apple is a sturdy enough vessel to stay afloat and keep her remaining crew dry for two more days.

I will write again tomorrow as we sail on towards the great unknown.

Stephen Gregory Smith

Captain of the HMS Candy Apple

The Death of Mister Goodbar

Well, the heatwave took another casualty in it's wake. Mister Goodbar, my cellphone.
You may recall the previous saga of cellular horror at the Ballston Mall. When the evil cell phone that had metal on it and that had been eating my face up fell to it's death in a puddle in Del Ray, and my battles with Ballston Commons zombies and the Kiosk Queen.
No such horrors this time. I avoided Ballston and went to Old Town Alexandria's T-mobile store and obtained this cutie with no difficulty.







Same phone number, new phone.
Her name is Candy Apple.
Stop giggling.

Cell...Part 2

Matthew and I took an expedition back to the zombie infested halls of Ballston Common this morning.
Together, we were determined that we could defeat the Kiosk Queen. With renewed confidence, and a full nights rest behind me, I felt strong enough to face the task at hand.


I shoved through crowds of teenage cellular zombies with no fear at all. Matthew did the same. We came here with one goal...to take down the Kiosk Queen.
I also had a back-up plan. I still had my old Cell Phone from my Landscaping job. It still worked fine, just was not in service...a plan formed.
As we approached her on the fourth level of the video game...uh...mall, we saw the strangest thing that we may have ever seen...Standing at the Kiosk, chatting with the Kiosk Queen was a man of about 30, all dressed in gothness, with a live rooster in one arm. Yes, a live rooster. I wish I had my camera. I really am not even fucked up in the head enough to make this shit up. A man in goth, carrying a live rooster. Ballston Common truly is a strange place.
The goth dude carrying clucking cock walked away, and we were face to face with braids and eyebrows herself.
The Kiosk Queen seemed less than thrilled to see me again, but sizing up that there were 2 poofs present, as opposed to one, seemed to put her on her toes. She explained the reason that she couldn't give me a free phone to Matt, and the whole sordid mess. He was still confused, as was I.
My strength was depleting minute by minute as the Kiosk Queen pelted us with her "special attack".....which was rays of confusion.


I intervened with the back-up plan.
I was in no mood to share oxygen with this lady anymore.
I whipped out my old phone and cut to the chase. She said that I could just switch the sim card from my old phone and put it in this one. Problem solved.

My old and trusty friend, Mr. Nokia, who had been sitting and collecting dust in a drawer for this whole past year, came to my rescue. He had been sitting there, just aching to be charged and used as a great communicator the whole time,
as Nasty Mr. Samsung chewed at my face silently, and beeped with evil abandon. Finally Mr. Nokia is back in faithful service.
There is a lesson here. I should have stuck with Mr. Nokia. He never treated me particularly bad. He was very receptive..(always 4 bars at the very least). He had much better ringtones, that much was clear. But I left him behind in the drawer for...Mr. Samsung.


Mr. Samsung was a bright, shiny new object that perhaps was more sleek than Mr. Nokia (who was a bit boxy). Mr. Samsung was small, compact- oh- and he could take pictures. Oohhhh. I loved that. AND VIDEO! I was sold. (Shiny object syndrome). Was he receptive? No. He in fact was horrible in the communications field. I found myself talking into empty space most of the time. And all the while, he was eating at my face little by little with his metal teeth.
After my year with Mr. Samsung, and Mr. Samsung's ultimate demise through the device of a squirrel running from bush to tree, and a Pointer named Reagan causing Mr. Samsung to take a death plunge into a cherry blossom filled puddle, Mr. Nokia was right there waiting for me, as he always has been. Old reliable.
The lesson here? Stick with what you know, and avoid shiny new objects.
Emily Sailers of the Indigo Girls says it best...
"All those tiny little trinkets of temptation;
Something new instead of something old.
All you gotta do is scratch beneath the surface and its Fool's Gold..."
Point taken, Emily.


By now, the events of the morning were starting to take their toll on us, and we decided to descend to the first level for nourishment, as we were both tired, and hungry.
We fought our way through more throngs of teenage undead, and arrived at the food court.

Matt went to some Open Market deal and got a legume and air salad, or something like that, while I decided to man up to the Arby's counter and get myself a Roast Beef sammich. Yummy.
We finished up and escaped from Ballston Mall at last.
Mr. Nokia is resting comfortably and content by my side. While the dead remains of Mr. Samsung sit on the other side of this laptop. What to do with him, I wonder?
Should I throw him away? Recycle him? No.
I think I will keep him. As a reminder of my mistake.
My cell phone is now up and running, at the very same number, but in more competent hands...and all is right in the communications world.


Luv,
SGS

Cell...a blog by SGS

No, this is not a copy cat retelling of the brilliant Stephen King novel of the same title, but it is my own tale of horror for the day.
This horror is personified in my cell phone. Yes, the phone that has metal on it's face that eats at my own every time I put it to my cheek, due to my metal allergies. My cell phone, that ever since it was mauled by Molly the Devil, has resented me and acted in a strange and angry way. This cell phone ate my face away to a zombie-like state last summer, during Pacific Overtures at Signature Theatre. Bloody scabs covered my left cheek due to that silent beast that was always close to my body...silently pulsing it's all knowing blinking green light. This is the tale of the end of my evil friend, and it's parting gift to me...a venture into the evil abyss of a zombie laden mall in North Arlington. This is a story of survival.


The day started on an upbeat note. Matt agreed to join me on my first 3 dogwalks, just to keep me company. It was a very nice gesture that indeed started my day out right. Despite the light rain that quickly made puddles on the dry streets, it was a lovely Spring morning.

We were walking Reagan the Pointer when everything started to unravel...and it all started with one little squirrel. This foolish squirrel decided to dart out in front of us from one bush to a neighboring tree. Reagan's instincts kicked in.
Reagan made a quick sprint to the right, which caught his leash on my cell phone clip, which was tucked into my jeans pocket. In one split second, the phone was flung from my pocket, and thrown into one of the growing puddles on Luray Street.

"Fuck!", I exclaimed, as I retrieved the phone from the murky and cherry blossom filled puddle. Funny enough, I got a call from Lynn Filusch not 2 minutes later. The phone seemed to work fine, so I breathed a sigh of relief. This sigh did not last, however. I excused myself off of the phone from Lynn, as the rain had intensified, and I feared further water damage to the phone by keeping it up to my ear. The phone immediately started to beep uncontrollably. This beeping intensified for about 20 minutes, a sort of countdown to destruction.
Twenty minutes later, the phone shut off, and would not come back on. I tried to charge it later, hoping that it would somehow come back to life. Nothing. I took it apart, dried it off and put it back together again. Nothing. Dead.

I dropped Matthew off at home, and continued my work day. No phone communique. Unbearable, almost. I listened to tapes on my cassette player for hours. I listened to Dolly Parton telling her own life story on audio. I ADORE this. It kept me company most of the day. I finished my dog day afternoon, and returned to home, husband, and puglet.

I dropped him off at work, and made my trek up Glebe Road to the Ballston Commons Mall. This is where the nearest T-Mobile store is. Ballston Commons Mall is also one of my most hated destinations. Most malls are these days. Malls just seem so 5 years ago to me. They became hip in the 70's, and put tons of strip malls out of business. Now, I think that the tide is turning the other way. Most of the stores are home to craft stores, or cheap-ghetto-airbrushed-Bob Marley and pot leaf tee-shirt-kind of places. Trashy.
I remember in my college days, going to the Apple Blossom Mall in Winchester, VA. I went many times with my friend, Katie Sina. She would often remark at the throngs of rabid teens and skeletal girls in slut-wear. "Wow...the youth is really out tonight...", she would say in a tongue in cheek manner. I would laugh at her joke every time she said it. It echoed in my head tonight as I walked into the teen cruising hell that IS Ballston Common.
A favorite film of mine started to play in my head...Rabid gangs of ghetto wannabe 14 year olds, who seemed to wander in packs of 6-8, stalked every floor. Anorexia is as big a problem as obesity in this country. Gaggles of skeletal thin teen and pre-teen girls loudly gossiped to cell phones, while remaining in their packs of 3-5. I felt incredibly old and out of place. Whenever I saw a person of my age or older, I felt a relief when our eyes would meet. I knew they felt it too...I saw it. We all felt unsafe amid the rabid-teenage zombie plague.


I ventured to the T-Mobile store, and explained the situation. Matt and I are on a Family plan with our phones, started by him...so...I had to be authorized by him to extend the plan 2 years to get a free phone. So, I had to get in touch of him, and then HE had to authorize me to do this through customer service, and then I would be in business. I called him, he called them, he called me, ok, we're set. I go back to the store. She says that he changed the plan and renewed it over the phone, and I had to be the one to do that to get the free phone. I have to call him back so that he could call them back, then change it back, call me back, and then it would be ok.
Sigh.
Ok, I call him, explain, he goes to call them back.
Time passes.
I am awaiting the call, and getting sick of the snooty glances from the ghetto queen running the store, who gave me those glances ever since I told her that my plan was through my partner, Matt. Funny, that.
I start to walk around the mall, zombie-like myself. I stumbled around, half tired, half starving. The longer I was there, the more I seemed to fit in to the mindless hordes who stalked the linoleum of Ballston Common. I felt one with their vacant stares into windows offering wares that some of them already wore. A numb army of consumerism, marching in tandem. I marched their march. What else was I to do? I was waiting in limbo, waiting for my substitute cell( a work phone) to pulse and give me marching orders.

I saw the zombie throng of cell phone attached humanoids crowding one particular store...the Suncoast. It's neon light flickered in the window, where herds of the teenage undead wandered behind.


I wondered why they were all drawn there in crowds, until I saw the sign..."GOING OUT OF BUSINESS SALE". Wow...all Suncoasts have been bought out bye FYE. I hate that....Suncoast was always an upstart, renegade feeling movie store with TONS of obscure titles and lots of cool memorabilia. FYE is a lame, family oriented movie-n-music mart with no imagination in it's stock of cookie-cutter bestselling films. Translation: I couldn't buy Orgy of the Dead there. FYE is the WalMart of video stores. I went down the escalator to the store, and rabidly explored its remaining contents. Things were 70% off at the absolute least. I prowled through the Horror section with avid hunger, as tons of the Teenage undead did the same, in utter silence, all around me. One false move, and they night have devoured me, I thought. Still no pulse from my Cell.
I walked out of Suncoast with these gems...Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter, The Dead Next Door, and Season of the Witch. All for $8.
Still no Cell Pulse.
I am ravaged with hunger, so I tear into the throat of an elderly woman using a walker. Just kidding. I go to Sbarro's Authentic Nasty Pizza and get some reheated cardboard with cheese on it. Yummy.


I get the call...


Matt informs me that the customer service imp has fixed it all, and if they had a problem, call him. The imp's name was Andrew.
Ok.
I push past the throngs of rabid zombies, who by now have recognized me as not one of their own, due to my desire and willingness to escape the confines of the Monroeville-uh-I mean-Ballston Common Mall.


The Kiosk wench, who is obviously a biggot to the faggot, rolls her eyes again as I approach. "Here comes the poof", I seem to envision her sighing. I tell her to try the transaction again. She does. It still doesn't work. I tell her to call the imp-uh-I mean-Andrew. She does. Still no dice. I make a desperate call to my hubster, explaining the chaos at the Ballston Mall, and my need for rescue, as I have been there for 2 hours now, and my parking rate is going up and up.
A thunderstorm starts. I see the flashes of lightning through the skylights of the mall, as I am on the very top level of it, dealing with Miss Queen of T-Mobile. Her weapons-adjectives, eye rolls, apathy.
I jam the dead cell phone in my hand into her eye, which makes her stagger back for a minute, before baring her fangs she leaps at me and...
I'm losing reality.
I need to get out of Ballston Common.
Me and Matty agree to deal with this together at the kiosk in the morning.
Oh God...I have to venture back into this death nest of teenage zombies and Kiosk queens? God help me. At least I won't be alone this time.
My dead cell phone sits next to me now. No longer blinking its evil pulsing light. No longer eating at my face with it's metal teeth. Any minute, I expect it to come back to life and start beeping at me.
I think I watch too many horror films.
Phoneless...
Day one.
Updates tomorrow.
Luv,
SGS