Friday, 30 September 2011

Live, baby live

I literally do have a new Sensation. And it's gorgeous. Take that Michael Hutchence. Pow.

Never has a phone made me so immediately happy. On opening the box I did have, it has to be said, a momentary tremble of apprehension when I saw its girth. But, to be fair, that's a sensation I like to have so I adjusted myself accordingly.

See, I thought I'd ordered an HTC Desire, which although fairly hefty, is pretty much the same size as my (frankly archaic) iPhone 3G (how could I have loved you like I did? I mean, really) but this seemed a monster. Its screen is as big as my TV (ish), the camera is just squirmingly good, and it's all so fast and smooth. And I love the little android man. What? Don't judge me. He's cute.

Before I opened the box I did, it has to be said, start to have second thoughts. Cold feet if you will. I looked at my iPhone 3G and thought about all the good times. The start of the relationship, the honeymoon period. Sure, there were hiccups along the way, aren't there always when you're trying to adjust? What about my apps I thought. What about my talking chihuaha and all the levels I've unlocked on Angry Birds? What if Android apps are shit? What if I can't find a replacement running app? What about my music? What about the MEMORIES? How could I think of doing this? It's like putting a dog down cos he's just passed his best and although cute just doesn't cut it anymore. How. Could. I.

And then I opened the box and it was like that bit in Pulp Fiction when they open the case. (I think it's Pulp Fiction. One of them 90s Tarantino things. You know the one I mean) It's beautiful. Shiny. Fast. Huge. Ignore all phallic references, it's nothing to do with that. Filth.

I even found a furry leopard skin case online so it's almost complete.

iPhone 3G has been demoted to alarm clock and occasional MP3. Bless. Still, it's the way of the world. It wasn't you, iPhone, it's me. I just don't, you know, feel that way anymore. Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

No comments:

Post a Comment