iToilet

About exactly one week ago, I dropped my iPhone 3G S in the toilet. It would be an understatement to say I was completely devastated. Rather than taking this week to get back to simpler times and actually look up when I drive, speak to friends in person instead of abbreviated snippets of words, and not simultaneously pee and check Facebook updates, I lost my everloving COOL. (PS: The cocktease FB updates where it's like "You have 8 new Living Social Activities, come here right now!" can fuck the fuck right off)

Oh, but I didn't do any of that. I mourned it hard like the loss of a loved one, had a grand mal breakdown before we went away for the weekend, let the week do me up the ass and cried and cried and cried. I didn't even have a phone for years; I was always unnecessarily dumb stubborn about technology, hanging onto the cassette dream as cd's came in, content to be livin' la vida 1997 for a while.

Oh, but then you get one. You get the best one. You put your life in there. New favourite music, the phone number of everybody you love, games, (SUPER FUN GAMES), photos, videos, and you're on it every day, every hour. Messaging, checking emails, looking at the scandalous websites work blocks (because fashion is dirty!), listening to music to make the monotonous tasks bearable. And then, it's gone. 

Yes, it's just a phone and I became a giant sack of pout while we (oh yes, I dragged poor Nuv into this shit parade) figured out how to A) rescue it [putting it in a bag of rice couldn't undo the damage I did turning the poor baby on an hour after its bath]  and then B) pay for a new one with the 6$ paycheque I brought home last week. 

There's no way around the fact I made this last week MUCH harder than it needed to be. I did have 6 dogs on Galiano to lick the pain away on Saturday and I didn't lose a limb and my new phone (insert four billion happy faces) is now syncing thanks to my super duper brother. So, yeah, everything is ok.

At least learn a lesson here and don't hold your pee until it punches through your bladder so you run to the bathroom, phone in hand, cranking that hand against the bathroom door so the phone squirts out and plops forlornly into the open toilet. It just about killed me and there's no need for any more casualties.