I love my cell phone. If you see me somewhere and I don't have a panicked, cold sweat going on, it's pretty safe to say that my phone is in my possession. It's not so much the model of phone that I love, it's the sheer power that this little device has.
Normally, I'm navigationally-impaired. Years ago, I was taking Cara to a play date at a friend's house that we hadn't been to before. When we got there, the host family asked if we found the place okay. Cara proudly declared, "Yes! And we only had to turn around ONCE!" Now that I have my awesometastic phone, directions aren't an issue. My phone tells me where to go. Except for those spots when my nav girl says, "GPS signal lost." The scene in my car when that happens sounds a little something like this.
They call these things smart phones, but I am fairly sure that my phone is an electronic crutch. I can still tell you my address and phone number from grade school and the phone number of the boy I had a crush on in junior high that I used to call and hang up on multiple times a week. But I couldn't tell you the cell phone numbers of any of my friends that I talk to on at least a weekly basis. Heck, if only their numbers appeared on my caller ID without the names attached to them, I'd probably have a hard time guessing who each call was.
I may look like a genius when I can go into a store, find something that I like, comparative shop with 4 other stores, and provide an electronic coupon to scan at the register. But I can only imagine what an idiot I appear to be when I'm asking if I can stand on the counter at Target in an attempt to get an extra G just to get information that normal people don't actually need in order to make a $4 purchase at a store.
Don't get me wrong. I don't intend to ditch the phone and grow my own brain. Let's not get crazy. I was merely making an observation on my sheer dependence on this piece of digital crack. It makes me smarter and stupider all at the same time. And yes, stupider is a word. My phone said so.