I am an educated woman.
I tote around 5 years at BYU - a Bachelor's Degree and a dual certification in Special Education (my major of choice) - in my handbag of life's accomplishments.
(The 5 years is due to that extra certification and for the fact that I had WAY too much fun my Freshman year and had to retake a couple of classes. )
In short, I shouldn't be a dummy. I have a diploma.
Yet, I really think I am.
I've confessed before that Jeff has realized that my brain function and power have slowly diminished over the years. Rather than being sympathetic and coddling me in such a way as to allow me to think that I'm still a brainiac, he has taken full advantage of the mushy gray matter sloshing around in my head.
(Please don't think ill of him. I am an easy target nowadays.)
Case in point: A couple of months ago, Jeff, Kennedy and I were sitting in the front room doing what most American families do for entertainment in these modern times - playing on our iPhones. I was texting a friend while Kennedy was listening to music and Jeff was fiddling around with his apps.
(Fiddling around with his apps kinda sounds funny, huh?)
My friend and I were chatting, via text messaging, about what we each had made for dinner, when she mentioned that she had something new on her phone. This is how the conversation continued:
Randee: Hey! I can see u!!!! There's a new app that makes your phone a camera! Got it for Ry and Renee to talk....but I see you! LOVE YOUR FRONT ROOM....I may have to steal that red chair of yours!!!
(I was sitting in my new red chair.)
Randee: I can see you! Hi!!!!
Me: You can see me now? You're freaking me out!!!!!!!!!!
At this point, I told Kennedy and Jeff what was going on. I was really weirded out. I started looking out the windows and wondering if she was somewhere spying at me.
Randee: Seriously! IT'S CRAZY!!! Do u have that app? Hello!!!
(We like to exercise our freedom of over usage of punctuation while texting.)
Me: What the crap? Get outta my house!!! How is this working?
I then proceeded to start waving at my keypad not knowing how the camera, which was on the back of the phone, was catching my image. Apple has really outdone themselves this time, I mused.
Randee: Stop rubbing your nose! You're on camera!!!!
(I was rubbing my nose!)
Me: How?
Randee: I'm not sure...kind of crazy...this is spooky!!
It was at this point that Kennedy started to giggle.
And I noticed that Jeff was really focused on whatever he was doing on his phone.
My cranium finally decided to spark and momentarily function.
Me: My husband is a dumb arse!
Randee: Ha ha!!!! Ha ha!!! Ha ha!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jeff had texted Randee while I was texting her and suggested that it would be great fun to play a trick on me. He fed her the information about what to say to make it the most convincing, and I took the bait.
Hook.
Line.
Sinker.
In my defense, I have seen reports on TV about certain spy apps that crazy boyfriends and stalkers use that would react very much like the scenario above. Granted, the camera would have to be on the same side of the phone as the person using it (for them to be seen) but I wasn't thinking about details like that.
(We numb skulls rarely do.)
Another case in point: Saturday night I was up late watching TV. Everyone else had gone to bed but I was too tired to heave myself off the couch and yawn through my nightly routine. I was watching the Food Network. I was deep into one of Bobby Flay's challenges when the channel suddenly changed to some jewelry auction program. I looked at the remote and wondered if I had somehow bumped it, although I knew this was highly unlikely because I was too spent to even shift my pinky toe. I picked up the remote and switched it back to Bobby. 2 minutes later, the channel switched back again. Annoyed with the idea of having to watch the cheeseball-of-a-salesman sell butterfly pendants encrusted in gaudy colored crystals, I pushed the recall button and switched back to my program. 3 minutes later the same thing happened.
"What is the deal?" I huffed under my breath.
I switched it back.
It switched back again.
Recall button.
Jewelry channel.
Bobby.
Bedazzled Monarch.
The remote wrestling continued for about 15 minutes. The moment the sparkling jewelry appeared on the screen, I pursed my lips, slammed my finger on the remote, and flipped it back. My TV viewing time was not going to be taken advantage of. I was determined to win this human vs. possessed technology war and I was not going down without a fight.
GAME ON!
I questioned the cause. Is there a problem with the remote? Is the cable exposed to the elements outside and is something shorting out? Am I not meant to see if Bobby wins this Throwdown? Or am I somehow being inspired to buy that butterfly pendant....perhaps for my mother-in-law's upcoming birthday?
I toggled back and forth for quite a while, until my eyes were too heavy to focus on Bobby or that blasted jewelry. I headed to bed.
(Little did I know I was sleeping with the enemy.)
The next morning, Jeff casually asked me if I was having problems with the remote the previous night. Relieved that I was not the only person being tortured by the crazed channel changer, I told him all about my experience and how we had to get it figured out.
"Did it keep switching to the jewelry program?"
"YESSSSSS!"
And then....
Oh wait.....
"How did you know?"
While I was downstairs cursing and gritting my teeth, he was wide awake upstairs having a delightful time at my expense.
Using his iPhone and an app that he downloaded that allows him to use his phone as a remote control, HE was the one switching the channels.
Thanks, honey.
***Moral of the story: I am an idiot and my husband needs to stop fiddling around with his apps.
