How the Droid Cleavage came to be

You've seen this photo on twitter. MommyLite likes to refer to it as my Droid Cleavage. I like to call it my Dear John to the Blackberry I dropped like a hot potato the minute The Husband was overcome to the fluttering of eyelashes and threats to go all iPhone on his ass if I couldn't get what I wanted. So I got. And he did, too. (A Droid of his own, you perverts.)

The taking of this photo occurred while we waited in the never-ending registration line at BlogHer. After a while, the strangers staring off into space started making eye contact. Some, like Julie Diaz-Asper, started interviewing those looking for their 15 minutes about their phones for her awesome tech blog. And because my Droid was new and shiny and pretty, I went for it.

Right after my uber-fantastic interview (and holy hell do I enunciate my "s's" overly much?), MommyLite was up for her shot at telling the world why her Blackberry still rocked her world.

Which reminded me...

I may be in love with the Droid now and have blacked out all references to my Blackberry in my diary, but there is one thing I do miss and one major factor that makes the Droid not as much fun to own.

It doesn't fit in my bra. My Blackberry? Yeah, that didn't look like some weird rectangular tumor.

So I shared that tidbit (demonstration and all) with MommyLite (her name is actually Sarah Maizes. I just really like typing MommyLite for some reason) and Julie and that's when this light bulb went off for MommyLite and suddenly I was having photos taken of my cleavage and being posed with my new phone cleavage to make sure everything was just so and voila...I had made two new friends and got a rockin' twitter avatar out of the deal.

All because I stopped tweeting for a minute, looked up, and said hello (in person) to the real live people in my tweet stream.