My smart phone and I

I obsessively cling to my smart phone. I keep waiting for email or a skype from Mehdi. I’m constantly flicking my fingers along the apps. I take it into the bathroom, not wanting to miss any calls. I originally got it when Mom was declining in health. I had it when Dad was ill but it didn’t seem as urgent then. Not after he chewed me out regarding my antipathy with Walmart. That was the last conservation we had.

My smart phone kept my hand from breaking when I was assaulted Halloween 2011. I was trying to call the police. Later, that phone was swiped by a couple of sex partners I had over from Adam4Adam. I’m a real naif!

I converted my Siri to answer in a male voice.Alas, he often fails to recognize my voice.  He then sounds offended when I call him a bad name.He really is a prick!

I like the texting tool: words drop down and saves me from typing the whole word. That’s pretty damn slick.

So, it’s really cool. I can see why people have their faces pressed to the screen. It’s a socially accepted form of narcisisism.

(However it’s spelt!)

I’m getting used to texting. That seems to be de rigeur these days. Of course I like emails. The services of the USPS are becoming rare. The whole phone — email, banking, music,notes, Skype, Internet — is the whole megillah for me. Why do I need a PC?

As I type this blog, the smart phone is in my left pants pocket. It’s quiet, waiting for what ever comes it’s way in cyberspace. Meanwhile, I snack on popcorn, trying to be patient.