Why My Friend Eleanor Might Make a Great Drug Dealer

It all started so innocently.

“Oh, have you ever tried it?” she said. “Oh my gosh, you HAVE to try it. You’ll love it.”

And then, we didn’t discuss it again for a while. But it was still hanging in the air, a tantalizing thought, a siren-like beacon.

“Everybody’s doing it,” she said, proceeding to tell me a story of how someone high-up that we know was hooked on the exact same thing.

Then, taking it to the next level, she dropped an extra perk into the conversation – unlimited resources. She gave me all the tips I needed to get an unlimited supply, to ensure I’d never have to go without, to make sure I wouldn’t have to face any adverse consequences as a result of my actions.

And that’s the story of how she made me addicted.

To Candy Crush.

Seriously, I rue the day I listened to my friend Eleanor*, downloaded that freakishly addicting app and started winding my way through the Minty Meadows and helping unicorns find their horns and talking to Yetis and preventing whatever other dreadful confectionarily-connected calamities I’ve prevented by lining up fake, electronic jellybeans into rows and Ts and Ls and whatever else.

But, you see, all those little subtle conversational skills, all those hints and suggestions she dropped into conversation just might work, just might make make her the Jesse Pinkman of our little friend group, because I am hooked. I keep playing and playing, even though, as far as I can tell, there’s no freaking end in sight to this virtual torture chamber game.

But, really, I can stop anytime I want. And by anytime I want, I mean anytime that the time limits and the rolling-forward of my phone clock and the so-called constraints of real life force me to. As long as I don’t get really desperate and start petitioning my friends for extra lives via Facebook, I’m totally and unfortunately okay with my new useless, time-sucking habit.

*name changed, kind of, to protect her from adverse googling that might implicate her as a pusher, a mean old drug pusher (bonus points for me for working Mean Girls into as many conversations as are humanly possible!).

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4 thoughts on “Why My Friend Eleanor Might Make a Great Drug Dealer

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  1. Heh heh … when we took that trip to Hawaii … not only was my wife playing it on her phone … but my brothers new wife was…and my mom….arrrgghhhh. My wife also says she can stop at any time …. but that the time is not now. Sheesh haha

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