I Think My Phone Is Trying To Tell Me Something…
Thursday, May 28th, 2009It all started earlier. I was walking through town (very boring, but hey, listening to music makes it a tad more bearable) when suddenly my music was interrupted by the familiar SMS Chime, which is also used when iTunes finishes ripping CD or an application finishes installing on my iMac (not that you needed to know that). Anyway, I pulled out my iPhone and looked at the screen, half-expecting it to be a message from my girlfriend telling me about the fun time she’s having away from me (Ok, I jest… I’m just a little bit jealous that she’s away and I’m stuck here in normal, old, ordinary life).
Anyway, I looked at my phone and, to my surprise, it was a message from the NHS. Grrr… Who gave the NHS my number? After the twelve messages they left on my answering machine WHILST I WAS VISITING MY FAMILY, I thought it was about time we took a break. But alas, it was one of those typical “Work, not fun” messages informing me that I had an appointment with a Endopodite- No, wait, that’s the name of the “internal or principal branch of the locomotive appendages of Crustacea” (basically a crab’s leg… See, I am clever really). It was an appointment with something beginning with an E, though. This struck me as odd, because I had not previously booked an appointment with an appendage -let alone the appendage of a crab- and as far as I was aware, my blood test the other month said that I was completely healthy (as far as the things it tested me for went). Then I noticed a cunning, yet predictable plot twist.
The said appointment was an appointment at Derby County Hospital. What!? I don’t live in Derby! So I automatically passed it off as a wrong number… until I was telling someone about my mysterious message via Text and my phone tried to auto-correct “given” to “HIV“… H I V … How often do I use that in a sentence? How often does the phrase “HIV” crop up in conversation?! Honestly! I swear my phone is telling me something. It’s bad enough that I’ve been receiving Viagra emails in it’s Mail client, let alone all this! It seems tha the phone is slowly taking duty upon itself to tell me I’m in need of medical help… possibly to do with my genitalia? I don’t know, but it’s quite scary. I know my phone knows quite a lot about me – possibly more than my own mother (watch the video to get the reference) – but how much does it know? I guess time will tell. Until then, I’m going to go and eat Pickled Eggs. Why? Because they give me wind, which I often find useful. Om nom nom nom… *wind*… nom nom nom…

