Oh, for the love of Smart Phones…

I’m a klutz. No real revelation there. I frequently walk into walls, trip over my own feet, and drop things on the regular. Sadly this is starting to cost me a lot of money. I place the blame firmly on the fact that we’ve started heading in the wrong direction when it comes to the size of our phones.

Remember that scene in Zoolander with the really, really, really, ridiculously small flip-phone? Right. So how come our mobile phones are headed back into scary Zack Morris-sized brick-phone territory? And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m referencing; I know I’m not the only one who watched Mark-Paul Gosselaar, pre-Franklin & Bash (I’m not the only one who watches Franklin & Bash, am I?)

Okay, I might be just a tad hyperbolic in that description. But tell me this: how come, in my cellphone owning history, I’ve only ever replaced them when I was eligible for a free upgrade and never because of phone malfunction or damage? But, for some ungodly reason, this latest upgrade (to the Samsung Galaxy III, so it’s not even that recent an upgrade) seems to defy gravity at every turn. I’m convinced it’s the size difference. My last phone was the Samsung Galaxy Vibrant S. And it never failed me. The only reason I got rid of it was because my contract was up and I was able to upgrade (at no cost) to a newer, sexier version in the Galaxy S3. I should have known better. Yes, the S3 does have slicker functionality and a bigger touch screen. But I’m fully convinced the difference in size is the main reason my fat, clumsy fingers can’t seem to keep the damn thing within their grasp. The difference in dimensions may seem negligible (see below) but trust me, it is not.

I have owned this phone for a grand total of  17 months. I have replaced the LCD twice. TWICE.

The first time, I managed to drop it on the very unforgiving tile in my bathroom (yes I took my phone to the loo with me – don’t judge) and it completely stopped working. Grand. Off to the repair shop we go.

The second time, I’m not entirely sure where the damage started, but it began with a tiny crack that morphed into several large spider-like veins that eventually encompassed the screen entirely. This time, since the phone still functioned, my husband and I decided we would try avoiding another $180 repair fee and purchased a glass replacement kit. Great idea, right? Yeah…

So after our second trip to replace the LCD (you’re not surprised, are you, that our efforts only managed to further destroy the LCD instead of just fixing the broken glass?) I also purchased a heavy-duty, galvanized rubber-type case to avoid yet another trip for repairs. This was not quite three weeks ago and all seemed dandy.

Last night, whilst fixing dinner, responding to a text message, and enjoying a glass of Merlot, I learned that I was nowhere near dexterous enough to attempt that level of multi-tasking.

Fuck.

 I really do hope this third time’s the charm.