Stop it! Stop it right now! Ladies, I know we are close, but leave me sometimes. Let me breathe. Ever since I came out of the box it's been nonstop pressing and punching. For instance: why in the world would you think I want to accompany you to the bathroom? How sick and twisted are you? Do you know know that we cell phones consider the women's restroom as the doorway to death? (That and cereal bowls...)
So here's my advice: leave me in your backpack, your briefcase, your purse. But don't leave me on the sink or worse, your hand, while you use the restroom. Haven't you seen all those doomsday prep shows anyway? In the case of a zombie attack or collapse of the ozone layer, the only thing I'll be good for is a quick goodbye video explaining how you were unable to walk down the street without the GPS on your phone. I will faithfully expose you as the dimwitted and reliant techno-addict that you are IF this continues. Get a hold of yourself and learn to make it around the block-- and to the bathroom-- without your trusted phone by your side.
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