Another review of all smartphones ever

Divils.

The lot of them.

Since my last review of all smartphones ever, I acquired a new smartphone.  Last October.  Much shinier, much larger, and much more expensive.

Much tougher too, you’d imagine.  Was it shite tougher, ’twas no more sturdy than dandelion fluff.

The phone in question, is the OnePlus 3.  The Four, I like to call it.

It took it upon itself to also abandon me, six months in to our epic discovery of how handy technology actually is, just as I was cycling along appreciating the fact that it had actually lasted six months without a scratch.

I reached for my jacket pocket (waterproof and all, because I treated that phone like royalty hey), only to find that the Four had taken a leap for freedom the one time I hopped on my bike without zipping up my rain jacket pocket.

Off it went, not a shite given, and dived straight onto a busy Galway road, at rush hour, if you don’t mind, for fear it wouldn’t get run over and destroyed beyond repair.

Apparently the phone cover and ‘shatterproof’ screen protector were no match for the big ball of concrete which met the Four as its dream of freedom, as well as its screen, were shattered.

95% of the screen still worked, but it quickly gave up on bothering to display anything.  The lazy feck.

It has finally been fixed, almost two months later, and is generally just being class and fast and hi-tech as feck, so I haven’t spoken to a single human in person since I rebooted it, last night.  God bless phones and their ability to allow us to communicate, ha?

Divils.

How to get in trouble as a bookies cashier

Short of robbing a load of money, and refusing to take bets, I imagine saying any of the following to customers might do the trick:

“You know you’re pretty much guaranteed to lose money overall by betting?”

“You know you can literally do all of this more conveniently online?”

“In fact, there’s probably much less chance of mistakes happening if you use a computer to bet.  Then you don’t even have to give out to me when you get mad because you’re losing money.”

“It doesn’t really matter what odds you write down, we just have to put down the odds the machine tells us to use.”

“You look quite silly running to the counter to put a euro on just as the race goes off.  Or a tenner.  Any amount, really.  Again, you could do this from your own home.  You wouldn’t even have to get dressed.  You could just lie in bed and bet.”

“When you complain about the glass in the door or in one part of the window not being covered because it means people can see that you’re gambling…  You know you can do this in private, online?”

“The dogs and horses running on the tv screens can’t actually hear you shouting at them.”

“I genuinely have no idea what you’ve written on that bet slip because your writing is atrocious so I’m just going to manually make it a losing slip in the system.  Cool.”

“How hard is it to write the total stake amount in the clearly labeled ‘stake’ part of the betting slip?  It’s like, the only labeled part of the plain betting slips.”

“You never know, sure you might develop a terrible gambling problem and lose all your money.  Or that horse might come in at 33/1.  You never know.”

“You’re being very rude, are you mad because you’re losing loads of money?”

“Would you like to just give me that twenty euro you’re about to put on a losing horse?  You’d at least feel good about it after, as would I, so everyone wins really.”

“Any tips?  Yeah, just don’t gamble, ever.”

“Well you don’t need to lose weight anyway”

I’m not sure why this is a socially acceptable thing to say to people, but apparently it is.

I hear it often enough.  I don’t try to provoke it – I never bring up weight in conversation – yet it happens regularly.  And I don’t know how to respond.  And it’s awkward.

No, I don’t need to lose weight.  Really, I could do without losing any, if I want to stay healthy.  And I have no intention of losing weight.  Why so many people assume this is a thing I would be concerned with causes me mild confusion, to be honest.

It’s awkward for three main reasons:  Firstly, the person who says it, seemingly is concerned with weight and weight loss.  I don’t know what to say to them.  I have no desire to discuss their weight or my own.  It’s a touchy subject for a lot of people.  Secondly, it happens a lot if I make reference to that one bit of exercise I may have done that week or month.  I arrive into work all red, and explain that it’s because I’ve cycled in, so people get that I don’t normally sweat that much, and I’m told I don’t need to lose weight.  I wasn’t trying to lose weight.  I was mostly just trying to get to work, ’cause I didn’t have a car, and didn’t feel like walking 10k to get there.  That and being healthy and getting fresh air is always nice.  But now I almost feel bad for exercising.  Thirdly, it brings up everyone’s weight issues.  The person who says it may be thinking about their own efforts to lose or gain weight.  I’m reminded about the weight I lost over the past year, from stress and the like.  I don’t need to be reminded about stress and the like.  I’m trying to forget about stress and the like.

People often compliment others on their weight loss too.  Not to make a massive generalisation, but a lot of the time, all of this is done by women.  The problem here is, you have no idea why they lost that weight.  They may have exercised a lot, and eaten really well, and they might be grateful for recognition of their success at becoming healthier, yeah.  (Though I still think it’s risky because it might be promoting the idea that they should be a certain weight, in order to look good, which is not the intention.)  Or they might have had a fairly tough time recently, causing them to lose their appetite.  Anxiety, depression, stress and much more can cause rapid weight loss.  If you want to compliment someone on how much they’re struggling, then sure, compliment them on their weight loss, and how great that look now that they’re wasting away.  Otherwise, maybe don’t.

I’m not intentionally skinny.  I haven’t been dieting at all, or even exercising half as much as I should.  I just have a light build.  And I’m unusually tall, for a girl.  So my weight, which isn’t actually that low, is spread out over a decent amount of space.  But people have felt the need to comment on this since I was little.

To me, it just seems roughly as ridiculous as casually bringing up the fact that someone is morbidly obese.  Rude, awkward, and generally unpleasant.  When are we going to stop placing all this emphasis on being skinny?  Being skinny should not be a goal.  Being healthy should be.  If you are skinny, you’ll probably spend a lot of time feeling a tad awkward or guilty about it, because people comment on it all the time.  Today I was told “you’ve a great figure”, which was lovely, but I don’t know how to respond, like do I just say “haha yeah genetics are great” or do I do the classic Irish thing and claim to be obese (spoiler: no).  Other times people just say “oh my god you’re so skinny”, to which I don’t really know what to say, short of just apologising (I haven’t tried this method), and if it’s a very unfortunate day, this pretty much equally skinny person will refer to themselves as fat.  I don’t have time to spend my days telling women they’re not fat.  They have access to mirrors and weighing scales, they should be able to figure out that they’re not fat for themselves.  Not that they’d believe me anyway, because disagreeing with someone saying they’re fat is generally just sort of polite, unless you’re their doctor or something.

This may not be the greatest problem to face the world of 2016, but it is annoying.  It’s usually unintentional, but it promotes a negative idea about how people should look, and for that reason, it makes me uncomfortable.  You decide if you need to lose weight.  Aside from your GP, I wouldn’t really let anyone else weigh in too much on that decision.

I’ve heard “Dancing On my Own” far too many times

This song irks me.  It’s the kind of song that’ll get me to leave the dance floor to kill time by going for a wee.

It’s just a tad too overplayed.  So now I’m over-analysing its lyrics.  And this is the result:

I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her, ohh

That’s feckin’ weird, girl.

I’m right over here, why can’t you see me, ohh

1.  ‘Cause you’re in the corner.

2. ‘Cause they’re shifting the face off some young wan.  Bit preoccupied like.

I’m giving it my all

You’re legit just standing in the corner creeping.  Quite forlornly at that.

but I’m not the girl you’re taking home, ooo

‘Ooh’ all you like, you’d be right.

I keep dancing on my own

I mean, that’s sad, but also fairly admirable.  Work it.

I’m just gonna dance all night

Yaaaaas, slay.

I’m all messed up, I’m so out of line

Mad one to be fair, jivin’ away.

Stilettos and broken bottles

That escalated…

I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her, ohh
I’m right over here, why can’t you see me, ohh
I’m giving it my all, but I’m not the girl you’re taking home, ooo
I keep dancing on my own
I keep dancing on my own

Come on now hun, we’ve been through this.  Shtop yer nonsense.  Just get away from there.  Go out.  Live your life.

So far away but still so near
The lights go on, the music dies
But you don’t see me standing here
I just came to say goodbye

A tragedy Shakespeare himself couldn’t have written.  Wait, you just came to say goodbye?  Could you have literally picked any worse time?  Sounds like you’re in a club like, tunes blaring.  There’s no real room for chit-chat there like.  You knew that.  Yet you went anyway.  You big silly.  Move on hey.

Where would we be without notions?

People seem to be riddled with notions these days.  What’s that about?  Here are some of the ridiculous notions I’ve had the joy of acquiring during college:

Sarah, did you just enquire about a job?  Have it.
I am employable.
(Notions.)

Study culture, travel, learn, etc.
I am cultured.
(Notions.)

Study linguistics.  It’s the science of language.
I am a scientist.
(Notions.)

Study marketing.
I am going to earn money at some point.
(Notions.)

Do a graphics project.
I am a graphic designer.
(Notions.)

Teach in a Spanish-speaking country, where a teacher is called a ‘profesor’.
I am a professor.
(Notions.)

Build a website.
I am a programmer.
(Notions.)

Write a blog.
I am a writer.
(Notions.)

Study in France.  Eat a croissant.  Go wild.
I am French.
(Notions.)

Write a blog in French.
I am Voltaire.
(Notions.)

Do this project on whatever you like.
I am creative.
(Notions.)

Present your amusing thesis data at a conference.
I am hilarious.
(Notions.)

Play midfield there for the college soccer (B) team.
I am sports star.
I am asthmatic.
(Noti- oh.  That’s unfortunate…)

Really though, where would we be without notions?  If it wasn’t for them, sure why would we do anything?  I’m grateful for each and every notion I’ve acquired over the last few years, and I hope I continue to have notions for the foreseeable future.  Sure who knows where your notions could take you?
(Notions.)

Writing

Oh my god that’s a great idea.

What?

For the blog.  I have an idea for the blog.

Not now.  I’m trying to do an assignment.

But it’s good.

I have a thousand words left to write.

No but you should put this on your blog.

Whisht, I need to concentrate.

Yeah, on the blog.

Stop.

But it’s class.  That assignment’s no craic anyway sure you’ve been putting it off for weeks.

That’s exactly why I really need to focus on it now.

But it’s such effort.

I AM AWARE OF HOW MUCH EFFORT IT IS.

Right.  Back to this literature essay.

I bet that lad didn’t ignore all his class ideas.

Who?

That buck whose book you’re writing about.  Camus is it?

Voltaire.

Anyway, divil a book he’d have written if-

Alright, what is it, what’s your idea?

That’s it.

What?

What you’ve just written.


You wanted me to write about not being able to write?

Yeah lol classic.

Are you serious?

Gets me every time.

You little feck…  Right, I need to get back to this essay.

*Yawns*

*Yawns*
Jeez I’m exhausted.

‘Course you are, sure you’ve spent the last while writing this.  Probably should’ve done that essay when you were more alert.

Are you shitting me?

Would’ve been an idea like.

An idea?  I’ll give you an idea…

No you won’t lol you’re too tired.


I’m going to bed.

A review of all smartphones ever

Update:  This post has been reproduced over on Ireland’s Technology Blog.  Exciting times for all involved.

It’s five months since I joined the world of smartphones.  (I’ve always been mad for the latest gadgets.)  I decided to upgrade from my Nokia 5310 Xpress Music.  There’s a good chance you made the very same decision, about 6 years ago.

On reflection, for me it was a poor decision.  My seven-year-old phone still works, and only has two cracks on the screen, despite becoming well-acquainted with the floor over the years.

My new phone, a Samsung Galaxy Core Prime, pales in comparison.  Though larger, it is much weaker.  Its screen lasted seven days before shattering, quite artistically, after the phone dived from my hand onto the floor, from a height of 1-2 feet.  “A bit of a soft lad”, one might say.  “‘Smart’, me eye,” others may conclude.

It has since been provided with a lovely protective cover and a solid screen protector, albeit a little too late, for poor wee Sam.

It needs charging every day, if used a lot; 36 hours on the trot would be a serious push for the cratoreen.

It doesn’t have buttons.  Well, just two, on the side.  Madness.

Its radio is just not as good as the blokia’s.  It doesn’t even work without internet.  Serious hey.

The alarm won’t go off, if the phone is switched off.  I have now had to become a crazy human who leaves their phone switched on, overnight, despite aiming to sleep.

Needing to charge the phone more than once or twice a week (ridiculous, really), and not being able to fire it across the room once I’ve the alarm set, make waking up hugely problematic.  At night, my phone stays near my bed, because that’s where the only plug sockets are, and no matter how far away I place it, I can either reach it without fully leaving my bed, or I can pull it within reach using the charger.  The result being that it is scientifically impossible to get out of bed when my alarm goes off.

There was none of that shite with old Blokky.  Alarm on.  Phone off.  Close the eyes and bam, throw the phone in any direction (gently, to avoid property damage).  Job done.  Who knew where the alarm sound would be coming from in the morning?  The only option would be to leap out of bed to find it before it woke the nation.  Bed exited.  Mission accomplished.