I need to invent a word for the dread one feels the second after sending a naked photo of oneself to someone else. Did I choose the right name from my address book or did I just send my tits to Grandma? Did my iPhone yet again fuck me over via auto-complete and accidentally send my ass to a stranger? That wild fear is better than five tons of caffeine shot directly into the carotid.

There should also be a word for the desperate shamealarm one feels when one loses one's phone somewhere and, when realising it's gone, then pictures whoever has found it looking through all the photos stored on it. "I didn't know someone could...bend like that!" Oh yeah. Someone can bend like that. And someone can never shop at this grocery store again. Never ever ever ever ever. Actually, who am I kidding? That someone should strut proudly around that store. That someone has world-class knockers and is gymnast-flexible.

Not that I know about any of those things.

You know what bothers me? When the word "featuring" is abbreviated "feat." Like, "Liberace and John Denver, feat. Lil' Wayne". I always read it as "feet" and I just don't like it. Featuring is a weird word anyway. Say it a lot, you'll see. Americans say it like "feeeechurring". FEECHUR FEECHUR FEECHUR.

I almost apologised for my latest spate of disjointed ramblings but then I decided I am tired of apologising. I spend too much time apologising. Part of the reason Apology Disease exists more in women than men is most girls aren't inoculated against it. They're infected at an early age with the subtle and not-so-subtle cues that they should be sorry. Sorry for speaking up, for being too provocative, for talking too loud, for being too angry, for hurting people's tender sensibilities, for not smiling enough, for being too attractive, for not being attractive enough, blah blah blah.Who gives a shit anymore. I'm weary of caring.

I'm sick of saying sorry for things I'm not sorry for. If I should be sorry, I'll be sorry. I'm trying to stop apologising for things I'm quite glad to do. I would be sorry if I sent my tits to my grandma, however.

I'm working on my resolutions for the new year and not being sorry is one of them. The upside of not sleeping much is I've discovered the joys of not shutting up and feeling no regret over it. It seems my civility is just an illusion created by a well-rested state. Or maybe keeping my mouth shut is what keeps me up at night.

Labels: iphone fucks me over regularly, sexting your granny, sorry I'm not sorry