The One Where I Marry My Phone and Instagr.am is the Maid of Honor

So I've been addicted to my iPhone.

It doesn't leave my side.

It has it's own blankie.

I treat it like it's a egg in my pocket.

Like a newborn.

One without dirty diapers or colic.

Yeah, disturbing, I know.

Plus i'm addicted to Instagram.

It's like Photoshop, but funner.

It's social media meets photography, meets daily life, meets, blogging, meets Godzilla.

Or something like that.

And it's for iThings (Touch, Phone, Pad....)

I love taking pictures, I love photo editing, and I love my phone, which can do it all.

*give me a moment while I marry my phone*

Some of the fun I've been having:

Puffy white cotton.
Rainbow dreams.
Daddy/daughter pedicure time.
Pitching practice.  Alternatively titled, "man that field has a lot of trash on it!"
But dad, I'm tired and hungry and want all your attention and I don't know why i'm crying but WAHHH.
Happy Haircut. Alternatively titled, I can't keep crumbs of my lips.
My new shirt.

On that boob.  I mean note.  I'm out.