Hey, Hey, It’s Me, the Photo App on Your Phone!

Good morning! Photo app, here. Know what today is? Seriously? No clue? Wow, someone has a short memory! Check it out: here you are on this date four years ago. Isn’t this momentous? Yes, of course that’s you! It’s an extreme closeup of that ingrown hair you had on your bikini line. Remember, you couldn’t get a good look at it so you took a bunch of pictures to send to your dermatologist? Thought maybe you’d want to post it to social—to commemorate the anniversary and such. But if this pic isn’t doing it for you, I also have the same red bump from sixteen different angles plus a couple of monster chin zits you documented for posterity. Here—I’ve tagged them with the search term “maybe herpes” if you want them all in one place. Speaking of, how about a stroll down memory lane with the album “Skin Conditions Over the Years?” No? O.K. I’ll remind you again in twelve months or so, ideally when you’re on a first date or speaking at a funeral.

Psst. Are you sleeping? I know it’s the middle of the night, but I wanted to bounce something major off you. Would you like to share this picture of you kissing your ex-boyfriend with your contact “Ex-Boyfriend Do Not Call”? It’s just so sweet. This was at your old place in “Northwest Philadelphia,” right? (Not stalking you, just tight with G.P.S.) Was this the first time you guys used that pizza stone? You look so in love. Send it to him! It’s all set up to text—just press this button. I promise it’s not weird to text your ex a picture at 4 A.M., or I wouldn’t have suggested it. Oh . . . you want to see fewer things like this? That’s fine. Northwest Philly is depressing. Why don’t we pull up memories from this March, 2016, trip you took with “Ex-Boyfriend Do Not Call” to “Barcelona, Spain” instead. Wow, ¡muy caliente! This dude could really wear the hell out of a swimsuit, huh?

Hey, me again! Hope your work presentation is going O.K. I just had a great idea: How about posting this screenshot of the text fight you had with your mom to Instagram? No? How about Twitter? Fine, maybe just text it to your mom? Oh, I’m so sorry. Condolences. I’ll definitely make a note of that and score the “Mom & Me” album with something more sombre—maybe a minor-key instrumental written by a computer program. Or an E.D.M. remix of Billy Ray Cyrus’s “Achy Breaky Heart.”

Hmm, I clearly haven’t been hitting lately and I’m trying to figure out why. I’m just gonna throw out some push notifications and see what sticks. Care to relive “Pictures of Parking Spots 2016-19”? Or “Screenshots of Inappropriate Things Men Have Messaged on Dating Apps Over the Years?” What about this selfie of you frowning in a badly lit fitting room? O.K., this is nice. Check out this sun-drenched photo of you sweetly smiling in the prime of your life! Wait, that’s your sister? Are these other radiant pics your sister, too? Thank you for clarifying. This helps my facial-identification software to grow.

You know what? Enough looking back. Let’s make a new memory! Quick, before the light turns green. There we go! Hmm, a little blurry. Would you like to retake? Oh, no, what was that awful sound? Yikes! Everyone O.K.? Thank God for seat belts.

May I suggest taking several photos of the accident? We’ll laugh about it someday! Four years from now on this date, to be exact. ♦

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