I always thought that the death of humanity and normalcy would be the fact that we prefer to hide behind our SII, SIII and SIV, whatsapping, swiping, texting, updating our twirra et al. I had even made a pact with my darling girlfriend (well she was the one who came up with the idea, but I just help to enforce it) where by should we be together just the two of us, our phones would be out of sight, out of mind. Its nice. We talk as opposed to spending time with each other talking to other people. It actually works.
The more I think about it, I am constantly looking at my phone ALL the time. It wasn’t until my friend gave me a pretty good app that helps save battery. It switches off your 3G and WIFI when the screen is off. The staring at phone has gotten even worse with the advent of none other than CANDY CRUSH. Now you have gasps, loud swearing, giggling, twerking, sometimes cries of joy and also cries of anguish. All this coming from grown men.
But can you explain to me how candy crush can tell a GROWN MAN!!! not to play on his phone for 24hrs! Really!!! – Unendoro
Above is an example of the emotions that candy crush inflicts on grown people. I have to say that they have done it really well those evil app makers. You have to wait 30 minutes for a life (or ask a friend), you need tickets to go to the next level that you have to ask friends for, and they have made it all fluffy with stages names and bright colours and words like delicious and sweet that occasionally pop up.
Its actually bloody madness. It got to the stage that I googled how to cheat. If you change the time on your phone you get lives! Like lots of them. Of course when you rectify this time change, it sometimes puts you a few hundred hours behind in terms of lives.
I won’t say that I am addicted to this game, per say (The first stage of addiction is denial). I just have a never say die attitude. I will not accept losing. I just keep trying and trying and trying. I have a firm belief that all games created by a human are meant to be beaten. The unbeatable does not exist.
Football is all very well as a game for rough girls, but is hardly suitable for delicate boys – Oscar Wilde