I Will Break Your Phone For You. You're Welcome.

I do not own a smart phone. My phone is not intelligent in any way.  Her name is Sugar (I name some of my possessions in the hope that I will take better care of them and they will stop getting lost), she is purple, she turns off when she feels like it (just like any woman), she is cracked, and her ringtones are embarrassing so I mostly leave her on vibrate.  And yet, most people when they see her (after they are done mocking me, of course) say, "Gosh, I wish I could go back.  I'm so addicted to my phone that it's disgusting."

Well, I am here to provide a service, friends.  I will break the sh*t outta your phone.  For free.  Because I'm just that generous.  Because I love you.  And because you are annoying the hell out of me when you ignore me at lunch.

Here's the deal about hanging out, going to brunch, or doing drinks with me.  I will give you exactly five minutes to take a selfie, instagram your food, check in on foursquare, and then turn the ringer off.  If you have any pending texts to your mom, significant other, or hot roommate that you are secretly in love with, then you can take another minute to warn them that you did not get blown up in a terrorist attack or eaten by squirrels, you are just at lunch with a friend and don't want to be rude by ignoring her.

Because that's what it is.  Unless you are showing me photos of your kids or your dogs (I'm a good friend, I'll look at them and Ooh and Aah with the best of them, knowing full well that if/when I have any of the above I will make you do the same thing), or you are waiting for a phone call from Christopher Nolan to star with Liam Neeson in Taken #542, then that phone can be turned off for 45 minutes while we finish our gourmet grilled cheese.

FYI: Unless that grilled cheese was grilled in a way that left a pattern that looks like the face of Jesus or for some reason the chef spiced it up with gummy bears, no one needs to see a photo of it. 

If you reeeeeeeally need to text your Ex because you just thought of an incredibly good come-back or were struck with a moment of nostalgia that you need to share with him, take your phone, go to the bathroom, emoticon to your heart's content, and I promise that I won't put something gross in your mimosa while you are away. 

When you spend more time looking at your phone than at me you are telling me two things:

1. I am wasting your time.

2. You are wasting mine.

Now, #1 may not be true but that is the signal you are giving.  And #2 is definitely true.  If you wanted to text and tweet, you could have done that at home while eating take-out and watching re-runs of Family Guy in your underwear.  And me?  I could have been doing a number of awesome things like my laundry, writing and then deleting pages from my novel, pretending to sleep, or watching The Killing and shouting at the telly that it does not, in fact, rain like that in Seattle.  See?  We could have been more productive with our time.  Because who has time to waste?  No one.

What if I was saying something incredibly charming and worth tweeting?  Hey, it could happen.  I may be tweetable, you never know.  What if I was considering you for a part in my project for the fall? What if I just needed a friend because I was lonely?  You not paying attention to me is like saying that I am not as interesting as Candy Crush. And that makes me incredibly depressed.

I saw a father and his little girl on the street today waiting for the M10 bus.  The little girl must have been three or so.  She was adorable with her hot pink puffy jacket and multi-colored polka dotted stretch pants.  She was looking up at her dad with her arms stretched up to him, tiny muscles straining and reaching for him.  He was on his iphone and texting away.  She reached further, teetering on her tip toes, arms even wider as if she was about to catch a beach ball.  And daddy was texting.  He finally picked her up minutes later and balanced her on his hip, and continued to text one handedly.  

...yeah.  That's how you make me feel when you do that crap.  Like I'm reaching for your attention but you have better things to do.  And I warn you, I have worse and more dangerous tantrums than a three year old.

I read an article once where this group of friends went to brunch regularly and the first thing they did was put all their phones in the center of the table.  The first person to reach for their phone pays the tab.  I think this is a brilliant idea.  Though beware, I'd win every time.  Hands down.

Of course, as always, there will be exceptions.  Your sister's having a baby, your mom is in the hospital, you really ARE waiting for Nolan to call you to star with Neeson, etc.  But then you just need to tell me in the beginning.  And then I'll just sit there scoping out the hot guys in the restaurant and text my mother while you do your thing and we're both happy.  

But I really will break your phone for you if you like.  Technology repels me.  And I can share that magic with you.  All you need to do is ask.