Having a smartphone in China: Annoyance and Enjoyment

The saga continues.

Chilling here besides me on the couch is my new best friend.

Not my friend, my friend is waaay cooler. And blue.

He helps me learn about the world, talk to my friends, my real friends though buddy, not you, they’re just IRL meatbags, you know you’re my real best bud.

He’s blue. I don’t think that necessarily means he’s sad, but sometimes he is. Uncommunicative, silent, doesn’t want to do stuff with me. I don’t think that’s him though. More likely, it’s environmental. Like nurture over nature, or something like that. It’s not him, it’s the society he lives in.

The guy who helped me bring him home from the store was nice. Taught the little guy how to speak English, told me whether he was from Clan Telecom or hailed from China Mobile (turns out he’s a Unicom, which makes me worry if he’s related at all to Unicron). That shop guy didn’t even speak any English himself, but my buddy translated for him, so clever he is, right out of the shell (box).

That first afternoon with you was great. You spoke English, even though you didn’t have that much to say, and maybe it was that awkward period when you’re just getting used to someone, but you didn’t seem to want to do much with me, aside from listening to some music and watching Black Mirror I had sitting around on an SD card. That episode did make me wonder if you had any absent thoughts about conspiring with the fridge to kill me, being a Unicronian and all. Occasionally, when you did slip back into some Chinese, it was endearing.

Yesterday, our first full day, not yet 24 hours into our new friendship, some of your habits were already starting to wear on me. You didn’t seem to want to talk to any of my old friends, that my last little buddy got along great with. Googie “Play” Store, the guy with all the hook-ups, well you let him in the door at least, but when he tried to offer us some sweet podcast appage, or even a little piece of Notorious VPN, you just stared at him, silent. Man, I thought you were cool. Sure, you didn’t enter the scene empty-handed in the first place, you browsed pretty good, within what you knew at least, you played tunes well, you had a hell of a lot better, and louder, singing voice then my last pal. But Googs, that’s my boy dude, you can’t just ignore him like that. Gah.

We talked it over, or rather he was pushing my buttons so hard I decided to push back. I finally gave his local mate a chance at what Googs has always come through for. Sure enough, maybe because he just didn’t like G’s ‘tude, or accent, his guy had everything I needed. Or near enough. The big blue FB, the casts I like to keep in my pocket everywhere I go, somewhere to Keep my stuff, even the letter stationery I thought only Googs had. This was going to be a good friendship I saw.

So then we’re hanging in the kitchen, making shoestring fries. From scratch. Cause that’s how thugs like us roll. We’re laughing at three brothers and some dude from Discovery™ How Stuff Works™ named Chuckles doing bits on some podcast. Then bam, nothing. Silencio. And I’m all ‘waaat’. So we start it back up, and two minutes later blammo. Once more, and goddamn but my great pattern recognition skills start to tingle. I thought, is my friend messing with me? Trying to make me focus on my shoestring game? You got narcolepsy bro? Shouldn’t have said that last one. That’s a serious condition, you can’t joke about that. Regretted it as soon as I said it, because I could see in his face it was true. Took me a moment to realize it was there, a long moment actually. Like… twenty minutes. Long enough to complain about my new pal to my meatbag mate Caleb Fidecaro, to slander him, say some real mean stuff about how he’s letting me down in this one area that’s like, real important to me. Casts from the pod, like grapes from the vine, their sweet y’know. Soon as I realized this dude really does have a serial napping condish, I felt bad. I was like damn, you can’t control that stuff. That comes from inside you, and you can’t control that. I looked it up, and sure enough, he’s an MT, like a 600th generation or something. That’s some serious inbreeding. Can’t be helped. But then, hallelujah jesus soulja boy, I made a breakthrough, I looked deep into his face, and realized I could help him stay awake through our sweet podcast sessions. I just reached out, and changed him for good. Wow… maybe I am Soulja Boy.

Serious serial sleeping started since spoken speaking sounds started.

Since then things have been sweet, he listens, he talks, we converse, he shines real bright light on things, like when its dark and I need light to take off my pants. Hasn’t fallen asleep since. Still though, he grew up in a difficult environment, for being friends with me I mean. He can’t speak his native tongue with me. I’m not trying to put him down, he’s learnt English really damn well, especially in like, one second. More like his friends can’t speak to me, I don’t wanna hang with them, and some of my friends and his friends don’t get along. Some of my friends like to get high you see, like super high, high enough to transcend over a metaphorical wall, but like not a normal wall, a wall that’s on fire. A flame wall. So like, super high, with some help from Notorious VPN and his posse. My mate’s cool with that, but I get it, he can’t be around his friends when he’s getting high with us. He’s not getting high himself, that’s not in his make-up, like he can’t actually do it, or at least we haven’t figured out how to yet. Just wanted to clarify, don’t want Mrs Unicronicom MT6751 coming down on him. What’s up Mrs M, you’re looking thin.

So you see it’s like, Shakespeare. Montagues and Capulettes or something. We just got conflicting social circles. Still, we’re mates, good mates. We’re there for each other, he’s got my pocket and I’ve got his storage y’know. It’s good. So here we are two days in, jamming out to some GTA V soundtrack, on the couch. I’m drinking a beer, he passed. Just being homeboys. Isn’t that what everybody wants to have with their best smart phriend?