(Approximately two months ago):

Oh, wait, really? They make assemble the Motorola Moto X in America Texas? I will have to buy myself one of those, then. It will totally change my life.

(Approximately fifteen hours ago):

6:11 am. Time to wake up. Because my smartphone says so. It played this totally dope revelry and then I woke up. Now I’m up. I put my smartphone, wallet, and keys into separate pockets. Wallet: front, right. Keys: back, right. Smartphone: front, left.

6:15 am. I put my granola and yogurt together and mix them up. I’ve switched from eggs to granola and yogurt due to the favorable nutritional advantages of such a change. But really I’ve switched because cooking eggs and cleaning the pan (I’m an OCD dishwashing freak) took far too long in the mornings. Like, eight minutes too long. So it’s time to eat my yogurt and granola and check things on my smartphone. I take it out of my pocket. I lay it on the kitchen table. What site should I check out? This is always the hardest part of my morning. Sometimes I choose the New York Times. Sometimes I choose my e-mail. Sometimes I choose Deadspin.

None of that is true. I always choose Facebook.

6:19 am. I’ve just trolled through Facebook for four minutes and the only thing I’ve learned is that my friends are the worst. Time to check… oh, I know, the weather! Because sometimes, in the bay area, in November, it is 50 degrees in the morning. Sometimes it’s 45. And knowing which one it is on this particular morning will totally dictate whether I wear the sweatshirt I’m already wearing or if I think about changing it up before ultimately deciding on wearing the sweatshirt that I’m already wearing. Because I’m already wearing it and I don’t feel like taking it off.

6:24 am. Ok, the weather said it was 52 degrees outside. It’s gonna be a hot one! I could walk approximately ten steps to my front door and see if my skin corroborates that it is about 52 degrees outside, but I will be walking those ten steps sooner or later anyway, so I’m just going to let it be a surprise. Meanwhile, I wash my bowl. I walk into the bathroom and brush my teeth. And then it hits me, like I’m a joint and “it” is a twenty year-old version of myself: TRAFFIC. The dreaded, dictatorial, seven-letter-word nightmare.

Shit. There is a lot of red on that map. Maybe I won’t get in a stranger’s car and get drive across the bridge for free. Instead, I will take the bus to the BART station and ride a train, which will only cost me $5.40 cents more than riding in a stranger’s car. And it will only take me twenty more minutes than sitting in worst traffic jam the bay bridge has ever seen. What I’m saying is: it’s fun to check the traffic and everything, but ultimately I’m going to go get in a stranger’s car and they will drive me across the bridge because that is the fastest, most inexpensive way of doing things. And I’m an American, goddamit. Fast. Inexpensive. Got it? Good.

6:29 am. I’ve brushed my teeth. I kissed my girlfriend goodbye (literally, not metaphorically). I am now walking up the crest of the hill I live on, setting out on my two block trek to said stranger’s car. I better check the traffic again. Oh. My. God. There’s a lot of red on that map. What song should I listen to? I’ve started buying albums on Google Play. It’s totally sweet. I can listen to them on my phone, loud, or not-so-loud. And I don’t ever have to deal with those stupid plastic CD cases with the CDs inside. What a nightmare that was. I choose Earl Sweatshirt because I feel sorta Earl Sweathshirt-like.

6:33 am. I get into a stranger’s car. They do not want to socialize. Nor do I. I start looking at the headlines on my New York Times app. I play a game, process-of-elimination style: which headline sounds the least boring? I have to be a good liberal and read news stories on my smartphone. I read something about congress totally being the worst. They are totally the worst. Debt-ceiling and everything. Pfft. I’ll show you my debt-ceiling — and it aint fourteen digits, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll tell you that much right now.

6:42 am. I live in the bay area. And the view off of the Bay Bridge is one of the best in the bay area. Unfortunately, MLB.com sent me an email this morning about who won the silver slugger awards in each league and so I don’t have time to look at said view. Sure wish I had time. It appears — out of the corner of my eye — that the sun is rising, too. I bet that looks breathtaking and everything.

6:53 am. Touchdown in San Francisco! And I aint talking about the fucking Forty-Niners who are totally the worst. That reminds me, who are the Niners playing this weekend? The Browns are on a bye-week and my friend Jesse totally wants to watch football with me. He’s a Niners fan because he was born in San Francisco. I open up my Sports Yahoo App, which totally sucks, but I’m doing my best to boycott ESPN because it’s a big monopolistic company, and I don’t like companies like that, as you can tell by my allegiance to companies like Google (who owns Motorola, who built my smartphone. IN AMERICA). Sports Yahoo… why did I open this? Let’s check NBA scores. I can’t understand anything I’m looking at and I have this feeling I’m walking into oncoming traff– I’m walking into oncoming traffic! FUCK.

7:01 am. I arrive at my office. There is a computer in front of me. I check the weather on my smartphone.

I’m so glad I bought this smartphone.