This weekend, I was abducted by aliens. So Thursday night, I was chilling, watching American Idol (Mariah Carey is everything. Also, I might audition for American Idol just to strangle Nicki Minaj so I never have to hear her speaking voice again. Her voice is probably why her wigmaster quit, bitch is one nasal mutherfucker) and eating various forms of melted cheese sandwiches. A large portion of the evening was also dedicated to wondering where all my energy and youth had gone and was I really considering re-watching that episode of Downton Abbey? Yes you are, Hassan, yes you are. So a lot of things were happening. Then my dog, exhausted of our conversation, decided to pass out. Obviously I had to take pictures.

The first picture I took had a strange orb right on little Henry’s head (the dog, not someone from Downton), so I took three other pictures because it would be a funny joke to text everyone. Then I fucked with it on Instagram and, lo and behold, a little alien face showed up smack-dab in the middle of the orb. Even Henry could see it.

Was my iPhone haunted? Was it a spaceship? Was my phone case a spaceship? Should I be scared? Will it impregnate me? Worse; will it impregnate my mother? I can’t deal with a half-alien brother. He’d probably be really smart. Was the house haunted? Were there tiny aliens spying on the dog? Henry, tell me what you know! Henry, do you remember the pug in Men in Black? You would have been so much better than him. Look at that quizzical look on your face! Who’s a star? You’re a star! Should this be a movie? Somebody call Will Smith.

Then I started to doubt the existence of this tiny Yoda laughing at me creepily from my iPhone/spaceship. I had no choice but to text it to everyone (which meant a grand total of 3 people because I was hysterical and home alone and no one was around to assure me they saw it too and I wasn’t crazy) and they saw it too. Does Will Smith have an Instagram? Where is Scully? Why, even when I stay in, are there creepy faces in my life? Aren’t the ones in the streets enough?

When my family returned from having lives, my sister nonchalantly told me the house was haunted and then asked me if I wanted to watch a movie. My mother asked me of the precise location this picture was taken. Which couch? What direction was I facing? Why is it laughing? I wonder which aunt that is… How do you like my hair?

Since everyone else was dealing with this ghost in our house super calmly, I had no choice but to try to forgetby watching The Biggest Loser. Nothing will make you forget ghosts/aliens in your house like 200+ pound people standing there, half-naked announcing, their weight to America – nay, the world! – and running through bubblegum. Bubblegum? Also they disguise the fact that most of the world is watching the show to make fun of fat people falling on treadmills with hidden messages so well, it hurts. The cheesiness of it all really gets me worked up and suddenly I find myself yelling “PUSH THROUGH IT PAM!”right before passing out, therefore never finding out exactly how much weight Pam actually lost.

My point is, my iPhone is haunted by my great aunt and I’m going to chronicle this on Instagram, so you should definitely follow me.