This probably won’t surprise most of you, since my thriftiness is no secret across the ‘Net, but I’m in dire need of a new cell phone. While most of my friends and family can balance their checkbooks on their BlueBerry Pearls, my five-year old clam-shell cell can barely send a text message.
I’ve never even owned a cell phone that can snap photos.
My friends tell me that I need to come into the 21st century and pick up an iPhone. Initially, I scoffed. If I buy a $5,000 cell phone it better be able to mow the lawn. But the one thing that could possibly change my mind are iPhone apps.
For those as far behind the times as I am, apps are downloadable applications for your phone. Many are simply time-wasting games, others are pretty cool, like the app that tells moviegoers the best time to take a bathroom break.
However, one app makes me question the integrity of the iPhone. From sfgate.com:
“I am T-Pain” lets you sing along with T-Pain songs using the same auto-tune technology he’s known for in songs like “I’m N Luv (Wit a Stripper)” and “Bartender.”
On the basic level, it’s like a karaoke app. You just sing along to the words into the iPhone mic.
Argh! Even the iPhone isn’t safe from the dreaded auto-tune. Why would anyone want to sing into their phone and sound like THAT guy?
Any GeorgiaMae readers who purchase that app will be forwarded one of those diseased Beyonce links that I mentioned a couple of weeks ago.
It’s enough for me to stick with my outdated cell phone. If I call you there’s a good chance you won’t be able to hear me but at least I won’t sound like T-Pain.
At least not on purpose.