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I've got a confession to make, Slim People. I'm in a committed relationship...
With my phone. We spend almost every waking hour together. It's getting a little unhealthy. I can't stop staring at it!
Instagram Reels. YouTube Shorts. FaceBook Stories. Day and night. Thumb flicking up, up, up, like I'm hitchhiking to the moon.
And here's the thing that really gets me. I'm not even sure if what I'm looking at is real.
The other night I'm scrolling and there's a guy standing in a field. Wearing surgical scrubs. Telling me he's a board certified urologist, advising me how to avoid kidney stones.
I don't know about you, Slim People, but every doctor I know is booked eight months in advance. Then you have to sit in a waiting room long enough to grow a beard.
None of them have a spare afternoon to put on scrubs, set up a camera in a field, and do a TED Talk about the stones.
Not the Rolling Stones. Kidney stones.
Next video, an elderly Italian woman, sitting at a wood table. Also in a field.
Apparently fields are where all the best medicine is happening these days.
She's explaining a home remedy for toenail fungus. Olive oil, lemon, vinegar and garlic. You soak your feet in it. Or use it as a salad dressing.
Or both!
And now with AI exploding, I'm thinking... is this woman real? Or AI slop? How could she light it, mic it, film it, edit it, then post it?
Did her grandkids form a production company?
I don't know.
But here's the real question. Why do I keep watching? Scrolling along? Mesmerized like a chimp watching a magician pull bananas from a hat?
Now look, I get it if you've got a legitimate reason to be glued to the screen. Your cousin's awaiting a stay of execution from the governor.
Or you're at Dick's Halfway Inn and your wife's in the hospital about to give birth to triplets.
But for the most part, it's a colossal waste of my time. How do I know?
Because afterwards I feel guilty, like I ate an entire trailer park's worth of Selma Krapoff's peanut butter fudge in one sitting.
I've tried to stop scrolling and can't. I put the phone down, determined to leave it. Two minutes later I pick it back up as if the Grammy committee is trying to reach me.
I even take the thing to bed with me. Apparently that's not a good idea. How do I know?
I saw a Reel that said so!
My phone suggested I leave the phone in another room while I sleep. Ironic, isn't it? Getting advice from your phone on how to stop staring at your phone.
Well, I tried it one night.
I woke up in a nervous sweat. My ASS had kicked in. That's my ailment, Attention Surplus Syndrome. I think about stuff for too long.
As my ASS took over, I thought... What if I have a heart attack? I'm clutching my chest, doing the Army crawl down the hallway, trying to reach the phone I hid in the microwave before I kick the bucket.
Or what if there's an earthquake and the roof caves in? I'm pinned under the rubble, straining to get an arm free just far enough to grab my cell phone...
And who am I calling? DoorDash? To order my last supper?
I got out of bed, retrieved my phone and set it on the pillow next to mine.
And started staring at it like a caveman who'd just discovered fire.
When I'm out and about, I look around and everybody's doing it: driving, eating, walking down the street, all the while, staring at their phones.
I'm telling you, people could be scrolling and strolling down the street, an armored car could drive by, hit a pothole and three million dollars could fall out the back.
And nobody would notice.
They'd blindly step over the bills as they're Facetiming their friends complaining about how they never have enough money.
This cell phone dependence has reached a critical point, Slim People!
But don't worry. Slim Man's ASS to the rescue!
I'm thinking about creating a program.
Maybe call it CPA.
Now before you get excited, this has nothing to do with Cheese, Prosciutto, and Aperol. Or Cocktail Procurement Agents. Or even Certified Public Accountants.
No. The CPA I'm talking about is Cell Phones Anonymous.
That CPA. The goal would be to help people tethered to their cell phones morning, noon, night. As well as the 3 a.m. bathroom bolt!
Maybe CPA could have meetings. Picture it...
Folding chairs. Bad coffee. Somebody stands up.
“My name is Xenobia. I have a cell phone obsession. I was walking down the street in Manhattan, scrolling along, and I walked directly into an open manhole. I was down in the sewer system for three weeks. And I want you to know—I still had a signal. Two bars!”
Round of applause.
Next guy stands up.
“My name is Larry, and I'm a phone-aholic. I had a real problem texting and driving. I got in so many accidents my car looked like I had won the Demolition Derby! So I quit.”
Round of applause.
“I quit driving! I started taking Uber everywhere. My car insurance went down, but my Uber bill didn't!"
I'm thinking CPA might be able to help folks like Larry and Xenobia with their cell phone obsession.
Maybe we come up with a three-step plan.
More sunsets. More friends. More pasta.
Of course, I'll need my phone to find the best place to see the sunset, take a photo of the sunset, text my friends photos of the sunset, post the sunset on Instagram, FaceBook, YouTube...
Then watch videos of thirty-seven different Italians argue about the proper way to make linguine with white clam sauce.
Sounds like a plan!
Keep smiling, Slim People. And keep in touch.
It's all about love.
Who loves ya?
Uncle Slimmy
PS: My friend Mucci gave me a couple homegrown zucchini. So I made this dish. It's delish! Here's a video of my stunning recipe for zucchini and sweet onions. Mangiamo!
Click HERE!
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