Phone Apps. Phone apps for this, phone apps for that, shopping, gaming, eating, drinking, fantasy- leaguing…you name it they’ve apped it. Iphone is the King of all Apps and has gone so far as “proving” that Iphone Users have more sex than say…..Android based users. Like me. The good news is that there’s an App for that. If it turns out indeed that I don’t have as much sex as an Iphone sex App user, then there’s a pill for that. A pill to erase the gloom brought on by a godamn App built  by a society that says even if Im having sex 2 times a day in every place you can conjure, in every way you can conjure, it still isnt enough because somewhere in the kitchen/Living room/car/car trunk/truck/truck stop/truck bed/car dealership/restaurant …wherever in hell Im having sex at, there’s an Android based device lurking nearby and therefore my (sex) life is less fulfilling.

If i quit the Internet for one year, in totality of absolute elimination of exposure….like say…the Amish, what would it be like after the 12 months is up and I log back in? No email, no stupid twitter, no lolcats….just me in a cave with a torch ablaze scratching my balls in between gutteral, out loud thoughts/grunts. I gave up cheeseburgers once, and I really do have a cheeseburger tattooed on my arm. I dont have the internet tattooed on my arm, sounds like this might work.

Let me tell you about my Facebook App adventure:
Facebook sang her filthy harlot song from stormy shores littered with the bodies of those gone before me yet last night I answered her soiled call, sneaking into the Android marketplace and downloading an App for Faceplant that seemed to answer my main needs: keep the device uncluttered with typical facebook gyre/offal while updating all my contacts with (yes I know this is silly) an image. Pictures are better than words right? Why fight through the heavy muck of an analog name directory on your phone when you could say….just flip though to find a photo of the person your trying to text/call. Its all I wanted, its all I needed yet Faceplant managed to stick a shiv in my side and keep walking down the cellblock like nothing happened. I got the kitchen sink when I downloaded this App, i mean seriously: kitchen fucking sink. It was like picking your way through a condom strewn alley on your way to a needle exchange to pick up a fresh set of points for your…you know….diabetic mum.
Let me explain: Most of you on Facebook I actually KNOW IN REAL LIFE (whatever that even means anymore) and therefore I already and organically have all your pertinent info, addresses/numbers/firstborns social security #’s etc. Some of you however….were cross pollinated to faceplant via here, Ninja Motorhome. Now I have all of your info too, every last coordinate, phone number and dirty little address. It reminded me of a rape kit except its all digital. I saw a few weeks back how the the founder of Facebook, known fondly as Dicknose, was stalked by a hired gun to photo every aspect of his life and then turn in said photos to contractor for internet publishing with the aim of beating Dicknose at his own game: relinquishment of all privacy/anonymity. Turns out Dicknose has a squatty little Asian g/f who sucks down shit from Starbucks that I cant even pronounce, carrys sheet cakes across streets, lives in a modest little hut somewhere south of here and I don’t know what he drives but they showed that as well, Im guessing it was a SUBARU and he was likely inspired to buy it after watching that whole “My Subaru saved my life” bullshit where the jackoff white collar scrote drives into a junkyard to see the car that you know….shouldve killed him but didnt so now instead of being stupid hippie Suby scrap, his Subaru is some sort of Omnipresent Being. Now instead of rape kit, Im thinking its Knight Rider Kit.

What about the other fantastic pile of shit commercial Subaru put out called “Honest and Virtue wins” where the douchebag dad tells his cheeseburger kid to build his car any way he wants and then watches from behind the door while the little bastards lathes out a wooden car, which then wins blah blah who gives a shit blah and the ride home is pregnant with awkward silence because the piece of shit father cant express to his son how proud he is.
Fuckheads with poor kids who dont know anything different than being the poor kid of a noncommunicative fuckhead dad. I feel bad for that blonde little porkchop with his lonely wooden car in that commercial.
See, our generation was great, it really was and heres why: We actually stood a chance of survival, knowing better, our parents talked to us, we were the dregs of a national movement that gave a shit about Family instead of all this reality show this, bikini spread that, bullshit of today. Not to say that alot of you out there didnt do or arent doing a fantastic job with your kids because I know many of you that are but its simple math: you are outnumbered and increasingly so. Who am I to even bring up parenting you ask? How many unencumbered guys like me do you see out here? Not many. Single dads are everywhere. Big time. Not adding to the problem has secured my place to comment.

Alot of girls on faceplant post alot of pics of them lounging in the house with nothing on but dental floss, bikinis that have even less on em than that, alot of you have kids….point being: alot of you have alot of shit to take care of and protect: homes, schedules, lifestyles etc. Im telling ya right now, if I was a stranger and I wanted to stalk you, fuck with your head and even (God forbid) hurt you well guess what: There’s and App for that. its called Facebook and or Facebook Mobile.
Get into your profiles and take down your addresses and for Christs sake, remove your phone numbers. Im not kidding, I felt like an instant asshole last night breezing through the Facebook App….no it wasn’t even the App, it synced directly with my Android and all this wild information was suddenly right there without opening anything less than my directory. Scrub the galleys and swab your decks. If I can sit in the setting sun of Seattle Washington surrounded by beehives, covered in sawdust from the building of said beehives whilst sipping a vodka rocks and literally stumble on all this information, God only knows what would happen if I really tried.
Think about it, this matters.