Phone addictions and you. (But mostly me.)

I have a confession about my phone.

I am one thousand percent addicted to my phone.

And not in a cutesy, “shopping is my LIFE” way. No. I am unable to function without my iPhone.

I’ve recently had a chance to find out how [sadly] true this is.

iphone addict

Voted Most Likely To Be Unable To Deal.

You know how everyone’s buzzing about Apple intentionally throttling their “older” models of phone? (And we’re talking 6S, people, not the iPhone 2 from 2007. I got my 6S late in 2016. It ain’t geriatric.) So, if you haven’t read about it, there’s this whole battery problem and it can’t handle the demands of newer operating systems. Especially not if you did the ill-advised iOS update 11.

I did the iOS update.

Thankfully, Apple’s been pretty awesome about upgrading everyone’s batteries for a super sale price (for them) of $29. As long as you can get into a Genius Bar or authorized retailer for an initial appointment to see if your phone “qualifies.” And as long as you can get to an hourlong, follow-up appointment after they order your battery. (Hey Apple, I’ll save you some trouble! Since every Apple owners except the brand spankin’ new phone owners will have this issue- and since people are standing twenty deep just get through the door- just go ahead and order a whole bunch! Just have ’em on hand! Like, at least five at a time! You’re welcome!)

That said, my battery is en route and should be here…eventually.

But until it is, I’m attempting to capture moments for regular life and social media requirements alike at maaaaybe the pace of an upside down and backwards (and asleep) turtle’s pace. Emails won’t load. Apps either load with the blank screen of death or shut down within seconds- although I’ve been trying to keep it “interested” in opening by tapping and scrolling frantically on the screen. Which sometimes works, actually.

This could also describe my dating style back in the day. (“Hey! Hey! Do you like me? Pokepokepoke!”)

The loss of the Shazaam song-identifying app has been especially difficult. I distinctly remember the early 90s, when I’d yell at the radio deejay for talking over the intro and outro of each song. Because, like, how was I supposed to tape the perfect mix now?

Oh, what I’d give for a little song title action these days. If Shazaam won’t open on demand, then Apple is relegating me to a life of musical non-relevance. 


Oh, also, I can’t make calls.  

Yours in dial-up,



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