Bubble Babies


I must have something to properly obsess over in order to survive. If left to myself the stress levels sky rocket and usually lead to bizarre health issues. Instead of this, I usually look to Hulu for salvation. Taking in season after season of arbitrary shows. I am proud that I can watch 7 seasons of The West Wing in as little as 2.5 weeks. Proud.

A rather new vice to harness the need to obsess is the limitless supply of iPhone apps. The Angry Birds phase took many house of my life, as did Temple Run. then I took on the interactive games like Words with Friends, Scramble with Friends, Dice with Friends, and Draw Me  Something. But with those – you can only obsess for so long. At some point the notifications are tamed, and all your friends are out there living real lives. That’s when I discovered my Bubble Babies.

Bubble Mania focuses on the plight of a creature of indiscriminate species who has lost all her babies to the Bubble Wizard. 1) She has a boat load of babies. Definitely looking into those welfare checks with those kinds of numbers. 2) She’s not getting the “Mother of the Year” award anytime soon. She lost her babies.

So the point is to shoot these colored bubbles at other colored bubbles in order to pop the bubbles and save baby prisoners from their certainly soapy prison. I cannot get enough of this game! It’s super sly, too, because it limits your energy so you believe you have out-smarted obsession. But then you begin to dream about the bubble babies and question the mother’s judgement. How could she be so careless? Why does she need me to save her babies? Does she even understand the responsibility of so many babies?

Slowly, the game introduces special bubbles to help you or defeat you in your noble bubble baby question. Your bubble babies may brave poison or sludge because of your actions.You know you’ve crossed over when a misplaced bubble can cause the string of expletives to lose all meaning and simply act as a lengthy bout of self-soothing.

That’s about the point in time when I began to sing to myself about my beloved bubble babies. The songs told of my love and then my extreme hatred of the babies and all the work I had to do for them. They also covered my concern about their mother and her aptitude. They were also alarmingly catchy – to the point that The Man was singing one to the tune of Sesame Street “Rubber Ducky” whilst making breakfast.

It’s really hit new levels for me when it comes to App-obsession. And I’m not turning back. I may have lost my computer. I may lost friends. I may have diluted my husband’s brain to oozing sludge…but I will always have my beloved bubble babies.

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