Hello, can you hear me now??

After a pretty crazy snowcation, I had the opportunity to have an evening out with one of my homegirls.  Right on time.  However, she just purchased a Droid.  I immediately told her it is the devil in disguise and she must dispose of it immeditately.  But, she loves it!  So now ladies night turns into "train my Droid" night.  Good thing I love her!

 

We walked into Cheesecake Factory, excited to split an entree built for three queens and some yummy over-priced martinis.  This is not the greatest idea on a Friday night, the first weekend in three weeks where snow is not keeping the population indoors, on Valentine's day weekend.  Of course, there is a fourty five minute wait.  So not worth it for mediocre chain restaurant food, in my humble opinion, but I guess many would disagree.

(On a side note, me and Ms.Beauty decide to skip the wait, get some food court crap cause its cheaper anyway and we would have more money for booze, buy new bluetooths, hit the Vicky's sale and hit the liquor store before headed back to the house. I love being such a classy bitch!)

The vestibule and cheesecake counter is packed to the brim with bubbly couples and first dates.  You could feel the Valentine's rush in the air. New hopeful couples and cute couples and singles ready to discuss their recent encounters and possibilities, or wallow in the pitiful hole of "IDon'tHaveAValentinesDayDateSyndrome."  

However, I made an interesting observation.  I took a quick count as I approached the hostess stand.  Count em,  TWELVE people into their phones.  The glow of HD touchscreens and colorful QWERTY keyboards brightens the darkened ambiance of the Factory that the chain strives for.  

How could this be?  People with people close enough to feel their breathing being, on the phone communicating with other people and apps and facebook, and twitter, and foursquare, and yelp, and Loopt and whatever the hell else.  At least I know I am not alone.   I suffer from this addiction as well.  I am in a bad romance with my phone.


Step One:  We admitted we were powerless over sexTy cell-devices and --that our lives had become unmanageable.


Yes, it is a true story.  I have a bad romance with my cell phone.  I finally upgraded to a smart phone, which is actually very stupid.  It doesn't always listen to me either.  Droid is about as difficult to train properly as a man.

My pretty pink Droid sleeps with me at night.  It lays with me in bed, and since it is plugged in it keeps me warm. Whenever I'm feeling like I need some attention, Droid gives it to me.  There is no shortage of eye candy contacts that I can holla at any hour of the day or night.  It lights up pretty colors in the dark, and plays music of my choice.

Can Droid please me?

Well, I have a 'vault' of pictures.  Pictures of biceps, pecs, sexy smiles, abs and cock all sorted into a special hidden folder that I may open at my discretion, for lack of discretion. 

I downloaded an app called Dildroid.  It is a mock vibrator; a phallic version of the little green  'android' guy that you can slide up and down and take advantage of the powerful vibrate function of the phone.  I've counted seven varying speeds to the Dildroid.  Not bad for a free app on my baby.  Not too functional either...but still impressive.

I also located an impressive free mobile porn site.  Just what I need.  Mobile access to HD porno that loads to my device in under a minute.  This is crack to a sex fiend.

Its just THAT serious.  I have lost two fine specimens to Droid in about a month.  A) LegalAid.  He called me on it after we had a chill session.  (I need to get to that post...)  He told me that my phone is very distracting.   He also didn't want me to smoke my cigarette around him, just like CO.  He asked me to go outside.  My own home.  I told him how about he uses the bathroom, outside of my home.   B) CO. Mr. SupaMcFly himself spent two days at my house, and rather than open up a true romance with him, I continued my bad romance with Droid.  When we were smashing hips, my phone was blowing up, and I asked him if he minded if I text someone back.  His response:  Uh, Yes.  Oops.  Its not that the sex wasn't mind blowing.  It was, almost, at least.

I think I'm checking into rehab.  Cell phone rehab.  And while I'm there, we can work on my sex addiction,  binge eating, drinking and smoking.  I just hope I can get into the one that Tiger is at.  That is a sexy brotha right there, who must be putting on some hurtin on these average looking ladies.  Yeah, if they could get the bizznezz, so can I!