WARNING: Don't do this whilst on the throne.

I'm sure none of you have ever done this, but I have had my legs fall asleep while on the toilet. Perhaps I have circulation issues. My remedy is to stamp my feet on the floor and pound my thighs. Once upright, I still am not right as I stagger through my bathroom like a newborn fawn.

Various items are to blame aside from the fact that once I sit I never really know when I'm positively finished. Sorry for the potty humor, but I've had a few false wipes. Back in the days before iPhones, Pop kept the bathroom well-stocked with newspapers and Mom had JCPenny and Sears catalogs. I'd flip through a few pages of sports scores and ladies in undergarments and off the pot I went. When others are in the house it's impolite to linger.

Then this nifty little handheld game was invented. If was a bunch of tiny green dashes (or minus signs) playing football. I shit you not, children of the Apple ages. The object of the game was to run my little green dash through the gaps between the opposing green dashes. Sounds amazing, doesn't it? While my tiny thumbs had their workout, my legs grew tingly. Then, the 9-volt battery would die and I'd crawl back to my room to finish my homework.

Roll way forward to modern times and this electronic tumor many of us have grown called an iPhone. It wasn't bad enough that I could check my email whilst riding the throne; I had to go and download a Home Run Derby game and my latest nemesis, Family Fucking Feud. (I added the middle F.)

I love playing the game and I refuse--much as I wish many friends would--to link it up to Facebook and annoy everyone with my new high score on The Money Round. I don't know if that show is still on TV or if Richard Dawson isn't buried somewhere, but I can't get enough of it.

The game creators should let jackasses like me upload our own surveys for people to play. Let me try my hands at writing one here:

"It's time to play Phil's Fucked-Up Feud. We surveyed one-hundred people and the top four answers are on the board. What gives men wood? What do you think?"

n-i-p-p-l-e
"Survey says, *BUZZ*!"
"What? Bullshit! Fine."
a-s-s
"Survey says, *DING*! Ten points. That was the third highest answer."
f-a-r-t
"Survey says, *BUZZ*!"
"Goddamn you, autocorrect! That was a typo. I meant f-e-e-t. Shit, two Xs. Um ... "
*tic* ... *tic* ... *tic*
e-y-e-s
"Survey says, *BUZZ*! Let's see the other answers. Number one, *DING*, Viagra."
"Fuck. How could I miss that?"
"Number two, *DING*, Porn."
"Oh, Jesus."
"And, finally, number four, *DING*, Breasts."
"What? Are you kidding me? I said nipple, which is the same as breast."
*BUZZ*
"You suck!"
*BUZZ*
"I'm marching right into the app store and giving this stupid game a one-star rating."
*BUZZ*
"Argh!"

Are your friends annoying as paparazzi?

Sally has lost all of her interpersonal skills. She now resides within social media. She checks in everywhere, tweets hourly, and is constantly snapping iPhone pictures and uploading them. You used to like Sally and enjoy her company. You now consider tossing her phone into a margarita blender.

She always wants to pose with you when you're not feeling at your best. Then, she hands her phone to a gap-toothed cretin who hasn't progressed beyond a flip.

• Sally returns to pose, hugging you a bit inappropriately.
• He points the iPhone the wrong direction. Sally corrects him.
• He counts to three and pushes the edge of the phone. Sally corrects him.
• He counts to three, but at two Sally stops him because he's covering the lens area.
• He counts to three and nothing happens, so he turns the iPhone around to investigate; it flashes in his face; Sally now has a picture of his nose. Sally tells him there's a delay.
• He counts to five, thinking that would solve the timing issue. The phone flashes at seven.
• Sally takes the camera, checks the photo, and realizes you had your eyes closed. Your drink is nearly empty and you'd rather suffer an under-nail splinter than a retake.
• He tries again, but someone walks in front as he takes the picture.
• He tries again, but an idiot is holding rabbit ears up behind your head.
• He tries again, and you sprint away before she can force another shot.

Sally spends close to five minutes posting the photo to Foursquare and Facebook while tagging everyone within a twenty-foot radius. You're notified on your phone. Your mother texts you suggesting you may have a drinking problem. "Thanks, Sally."

A nice gentleman approaches and asks the usual questions a stranger poses to someone he'd eventually love to penetrate. Sally notices and screeches about how cute you two are. She deploys the dreaded iPhone and demands a photo. The new guy stands next to you and smiles. That's not good enough for Sally.

"Come on, you two. You're acting like strangers. Get closer."
"Sally, I just met him."
"We're all friends here. Hug her, Mister ... hey, what's your name?"
"Trevor."
"Hug her, Trevor. She's a hottie."
"All right."

Great. You permit the cuddle. One picture isn't enough. She takes six, thinking she's doing you a favor. Sally needs a beating. Sally remarks about what a nice couple you make, but she doesn't show you the pictures, which she posts and tags. You receive a text message from your mother reminding you to use condoms. Your ex-boyfriend sends you a text calling you a heartless skank-ho. You leave the bar and plot your revenge.