Although there is probably some anger-induced hyperbole there, it's basically how things went: one day, I came to notice that my phone had gone all Skynet on me. The touchscreen refused to respond to any of my commands, instead following orders seemingly typed in by invisible ghost wizards who were determined to f**k my s**t up as much as they could. Invisible hands were all over my social media and attempting to randomly call people whose phone numbers I thought I had erased years ago. Had this been a computer, I might have been able to fix it myself. But a phone? No chance in hell.
Before you write me off as even more of a dork than it will shortly become evident that I am: yes, I attempted to shut the thing down, but since the power button only takes you to a "Shut Down Y/N" menu, that was useless. I'm also aware phones generally have some manual fail-safe shutdown system, but good luck Googling that s**t when your phone keeps thinking it's a way better idea to ignore you in favor of loading Moneygrab Fiend XIII off Google Play -- especially as you're currently trudging through a cold November rain that contains far less awesome guitar solos than Guns N' Roses would have you believe. So, I had no other option than to seek shelter and desperately flail at my Pazuzu-infested gadget until it graciously entered flight mode and rendered itself relatively harmless. Through it all, I handled myself pretty gracefully, if I say so myself.
Anatoliy Babiy/iStock/Getty Images
This is what "graceful" means, right?