Every day, the Apple Watch and I go to war over my “standing goal.” I get achievements for not lying down. Or not sitting down. I get rewarded for standing up, I think. I can’t really tell. It says my standing goal is 12 hours a day, which doesn’t make sense because that seems like an awful lot of standing, so I think it’s just rewarding me for not being dead. I get rewarded for walking to the fridge. I get rewarded for having a pulse. My dog likes to defecate in my tomato garden, which I deal with by shoveling his dried turds over the fence and into my neighbor’s hot tub. I even get rewarded for that. I get rewarded for my airborne caca missiles. Achievement unlocked. Thanks, Apple. You’re the best. Caca missiles are the best. I am never taking this fucking watch off.

I am filing “receiving a phone call on my Apple Watch” in the same category as “stuffing pickles up my butt.” I have pickles. I have a butt. It’s something I can do, the opportunity is there, but it’s not something I’d ever wantto do. The speaker is terrible and it forces you to broadcast your conversation publicly. And, much like the pickle party, it’s impractical to do in a restaurant or library. 
 

Texting is terrific, however. You speak into the watch and Siri translates your speech into text. It works really well for quick replies, like if your neighbor is texting you about his hot tub you can just shoot back with a quick “lol fuck u” and you don’t even have to type. Easy peasy!

In the two weeks since I put on my Apple Watch, I’ve ran close to 100 miles, all outdoors and in varying weather conditions. I ran with it while wearing two other sport watches: an older Garmin and a newer Nike Sportwatch. The Apple Watch fared really well in terms of recording pace and distance, even when running without my iPhone and just using the accelerometer. 

As a watch for the average runner (who is not currently running ultra-marathon distances), the Apple Watch is terrific. The interface is dead simple, even when you’re drunk-tired. Battery is plentiful, and the screen is viewable in direct sunlight. 

The only major issue I had was with moisture on the screen. If my fingers were sweaty, which was most of the time, swiping became impossible, which required me to use the crown, which isn’t such a bad thing because once again it bolstered my appearance as a mountaineer and not some fat-kid-turned-marathoner-who-eats-too-much-fucking-food. 

Bottom line: it’s a great running watch, unless you’re running extremely long distances, in which case you should focus on bigger problems like what type of plant you’re going to use for toilet paper or why you don’t have any friends. 

I left the house like this, which is why I will die alone.

Every now and then, I use a new gadget which gives me that eerie this is the future feeling, like the first time I drove a Tesla Model S, or the first time I watched leprechaun porn on an Oculus Rift. Those moments dohappen with an Apple Watch, but they’re sparse. Once more apps roll out, that’ll probably change. Uber is already there: calling a car involved raising my wrist, tapping the “Get me a car” button, and five minutes later an Uber showed up at my doorstep. This is the future, I thought. Finally, microchips on my mammalian carapace. I can talk into my arm. I can tweet from my meat. It’s a thrill-ride trying wearables for the first time.I’m wearing robots. Let’s Instagram some of my nipples. Apple was right. It is personal. It’s Robocop’s Robo-Cock, and this is Detroit, motherfuckers. 

Send me your heartbeat, and I’ll send you my genitals covered in Christmas lights. 

It’s my most personal device ever, and I’ll send it your way. 

I’ll send you the future.