Today my dad said offhandedly, “I think I’m going to bring your old iPhone to see if we can have it fixed. And if we can, I’m going to start using it.” Then he headed off to take a shower. As soon as the door was closed, I SPRANG INTO ACTION because there were a few, um, incriminating items that needed to be deleted immediately.
These are those incriminating items.
First off, photos. I… well, first there are the obvious. A set of bear saltshakers I found at a store.
Then a game of Catchphrase that went horribly, horribly awry. I wasn’t able to articulate any clues.
Finally… I don’t want him to know how bad I am at bowling.
Second, the notes. When I’m hanging out with my friends, playing video games and throwing Oreos into the wee hours of the morning, certain topics come up that Slap Happy Me feels the need to record for future reference. I remember my brother once was scrolling through my phone, and suddenly he made a shocked, disgusted, and slightly fearful expression and said, “What the hell is that?” That, my dear brother, is the brainchild of our collective late-night/early-morning brains. For instance:
That’s the only one you’re getting, because the rest cast kind of a “what the fuck” pall over my adolescence.
There are also voice recordings that WordPress won’t let me show you. Perhaps that is best. I recorded my friend Claire playing video games; it’s one minute and thirty seconds of her yelling obscenities and shrieking with fear.
I hope my father never finds this blog. If he does, well, hi Dad. Sorry about this, but you brought it on yourself. When you decided to have me.