So my husband finally talked me into getting a "smart phone". To preface, they literally give me a panic attack and it drives me utterly insane to watch a room full of "friends" ignore each other while they fondle their phones and obviously text their "more important friends", all while ignoring you politely within their cyber bubble.
Why do we need this much media ALL the time? I mean, really...what do you do with it? I liked my old, cracked, purple cell. It wasn't the size of a small freaking laptop, the camera lens was scratched, it could text. I wasn't slick or fancy.
This fucking phone is a giant electronic leash, tugging at my cranium, I can feel it lurking in my purse, waiting for me to fall asleep, and then morphing into that little psycho phone from Transformers, only to eat it's way into my brain and turn me into a phone clutching, GPS implanted freak.
I want to take this little SOB back-NOW! I thought I could learn to love it, but after tonight, being in that room full of friends and pulling that menacing little shit from my bag just so I would have something to do, I feel justified in it's return to the mother ship.
A man recently got run over by a subway car, the guy snapping away with his phone never even tried to pull him up...but you bet he sold that pic in a hot minute.
I admittedly spend more than my fair share on the comp, I am an insomniac, I don't get out much, when I do visit, I enjoy actual interaction, fuck even Steven Hawking will talk to you. When my husband is home he has that phone in his hand about 80% of the time, I have learned to talk to the back of his head.
I would rather have someone I care about tell me to fuck off and walk away then to ignore me to my face.
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