One beautiful afternoon I stood in the library where I work staring at the large stack of books I had to shelve, trying to determine how many of them I could efficiently carry without dropping them. I had let the pile build up and it was definitely going to take a while to get them all put back on the shelves where they belonged.  I had just finished sorting them by section before scooping up as many as I could.  As I struggled to maintain control of the books I was now cradling in my arms my cell phone rang in my pocket.

“Well shit!” I growled.  My phone seldom rings these days and I was sure it was my friend Jan.  She’d been having one of those days where everything that could go wrong did. She’d been feeling pretty sensitive about the whole ordeal and I felt bad because I could relate.  I’d had string of bad days too. I struggled to set down the stack of books I had just managed to balance safely in my arms.  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw that it wasn’t Jan. It was the last guy I dated seriously.  We don’t speak very often.  He normally only calls when he needs me to troubleshoot a problem for him or he is shit-faced at three in the morning (those calls I don’t answer). Given the fact that he was calling in the middle of the day I assumed it was the former and I was a little irked that I had stopped what I was doing to check my phone.

Me: Hello?

Him: Hi. Are you at home?

Me: Nope. I’m at work.

Him: Fuck!!!! Fuck!

Me: Why? What’s up?

Him: All the pictures on my phone uploaded to my Facebook page.  I was trying to post two pictures of my boys on my page and it uploaded all of them.  I can’t get them off.

I know he has some porn pictures on his phone.  He always does.  He uses them when he needs a release. He doesn’t use the computer because he has kids and one click on the history button and his midgets would get an education they didn’t need.  I smiled a little because I found his predicament wildly amusing.

Him: I can’t get them off.  I don’t know how to delete them and I don’t want anyone (whoever he was sleeping with) to see them.

Me: How’d you manage to do that?

Him: My phone just did it and I can’t get them off.  Can you get on a computer and delete them?

Me: I‘m at work at a public fucking library. You want me to get on a computer and delete your porn?  I can’t do that at work.

Him: Fuck! I don’t want [my baby momma] to see them.  I don’t want her to be pissed at me.

While trying to suppress my laughter, I was frantically trying to figure out a way I could help him.  Sure he was an insensitive idiot but it wasn’t a situation I would enjoy being in. Sometimes we perverts have to stick together. All my young patrons had just got out of school and there was no way I could just hop onto Facebook and get rid of the pictures. I didn’t have to help him but I also didn’t want this to affect his relationship with his family.  It was just more good karma for me.

Me: What’s your password? I’ll try and do it from my phone.

Him: Thank you, Teri! Thank you!

Me: Uh huh…

He gave me his password. I shelved the heaping pile of books I set down moments earlier then returned to my desk and logged in to his account.  I was not prepared for what I found.  I went into his pictures and found the stuff he had uploaded.  I won’t go into detail just yet because I intend to write a series of educational posts based on what I saw.  Clearly people need to be educated. My best summation is that 90% percent of the nude pictures on his phone weren’t pictures he found on porn sites.  They were pictures meant just for him. There were over a hundred of them and I had to delete them one by one.  It took me way more time than I had any desire to spend on it.

Although I was amused by the whole thing I cringed each time I had to expand a picture to delete it.  “Good karma, Teri.” I reminded myself. Every minute or so he’d text me and ask if I’d done it.  I just ignored him until I was finished.  I was sufficiently grossed out by the whole experience but it sure put some things in perspective.  I may have been feeling bad but at least I didn’t post a ton of pictures of naked women on my Facebook page.  At least I didn’t have to rely on the kindness of my former partner to take them down because she is the only person who would do it.

When I finally finished deleting roughly one hundred and sixty pictures, I text him and said, “Delete those pictures off your phone, dummy.”  I haven’t heard from him since.  I promptly called my friend Jan and made her feel a whole lot better about her day.

Note to Mark Zuckerberg: You should really work on developing a tool that allows you to delete multiple photos on Facebook from your phone. I can do it on Instagram… Facebook should get with program.

Daily Funny…