I want to take my phone and chuck it into the Caloosahatchee.

Of all the days to be failtastic, it had to be today, right?

I'm glad to know that when I NEED my phone to work properly, it won't, but when I'm feeling particularly bad about myself, it works like a charm.

You honestly have no idea how befitting this picture is for my relationship with my phone. Using a capable phone is like finding that oasis in the middle of the desert - I'm so unused to seamless texting or internet capabilities that I take even longer to text, just because it works. I used Watson's iPhone to text my mom and it was like I could hear harps playing because it worked. The touch screen keyboard worked and didn't MASH all the buttons at once even if I wasn't anywhere near the letters.

I am filled with shame and resignation when I get people's phone numbers. How do I explain to them that I cannot use half of the screen on my phone, so when they try to type their name, they can't.

It's to the point that I wish I had my old phone, the reliable flip phone in which it wasn't fancy in the least.

I feel like this could be a metaphor for something much bigger, but I refuse to make the connection.

By the way, is that James Franco or some other guy who resembles him to a T?