My phone is smarter than yours
Over Christmas my dad bought me a Smart Phone. You better get this thing some glasses and a copy of Proust, because man is it smart.
Why did my dad get me a Smart Phone? No good reason. Because it was Christmas, I guess. I came downstairs Saturday morning and my father said, “Today we’re going to the Sprint store and getting you a Smart Phone.” Okay. I’ll take it. It’s actually the exact same phone my father has, which makes sense, because he’s a CEO of a multi-million dollar company and I’ve been employed for, like, a week, so we should definitely be utilizing the same level of cellular technology.
My favorite part of my phone isn’t the fact that I can get email and the Internet wherever I am, although that’s pretty cool. No, my favorite part is the badge that comes with the Smart Phone. My Smart Phone is my way of declaring, “Yes, World, your suspicions were correct; I am in fact better than you. I need to have constant contact with my email, because I’m very important and never know when an important message might be en route.” Never mind the fact that that’s not true. Never mind the fact that the reason I took my job in the first place was because I don’t bring my work home with me and have absolutely no reason to check my email. You don’t know that. You just see the Smart Phone, and either get jealous, or want to have sex with me. Ipso. Facto.