Ah, the iPhone…

The destroyer of creativity, slaughterer of proclivity , molester of activity. I used to do things. I played guitar, I played piano, I drew, I went for walks, etc. But now?

Angry Birds. Facebook checking. Twittering. Email checking. Facebook re-checking.

My patience for boredom has now been reduced to withstand only a few seconds, before my sweaty palms are scrambling for sweet, sweet salvation in the form of a few rounds of Tiny Wings or Stair Dismount.

Do I take it with me when I go to the loo? Poo or pee, the answer is: You bet your ass I do.

Even masturbation has grown into a tedious time-killer. Shall I? Shall I not? Oh look, the phone is already on, the porn is already streaming. Oh great, I just came. How pathetically predictable.

So, dear brothers and sisters of energy, turned lethargy… I say we organise a full on attack upon the evil warlords who keep us so enslaved.

But first…

*Angry Birds theme tune begins to play*