Throwing In the Cell
I went to bed and left my 5 year old giant phone, aka Captain Paper-Weight, on top of a paperback book, which was placed on my nightstand. On top of that same book was also a cup of water, because I can't go to bed without my sippy-cup. Over the course of my slumber, that cup created vast amounts of condensation which dripped down into the book turning the novel into a sponge. Not good for my phone.
When I awoke the next morning I realized that I slept through my alarm... Again! After mumbling a few very appropriate obscenities, I grabbed my phone to see by how much I had exactly over-slept. To my surprise I found out that I dozed in by two hours. And! To my astonishment, I discovered that my phone was sweating like a Nazi that had just accidentally walked into a bris for the son of a family that happened to all be members of the NRA. I wiped off the liquid and everything seemed to be as right as rain. It worked fine, or as fine as a 5 year old phone should. My phone was like those really old cars that only the owners knew how to start. You had to jiggle the key in just the right way or make sure the steering wheel was at just the right angle and then talk sweet nothings into the dash. Same exact thing goes for my phone. So, after I fill up my phone with gasoline so I can check voicemails, I then placed the phone into my pocket and ran to Starbucks, because I needed a little gasoline of my own.
For every hour I over sleep, I have to add a shot of espresso to my cup of joe. After slamming that shit, I reached into my pocket to call a friend to see if we were still going to free day at the horsetrack. It was at that moment I realized my phone's early morning dew was more of a problem than just mere sweats. As I slid open the phone, water oozed out of its insides as if it was it was bleeding. After I stopped screaming at the thought of my phone being possesed by the anti-christ, and after I stopped trying to exorcise the demons with coffee that I had just blessed. "The Power Of Starbucks Compels You! The Power of Starbucks Compels you!' the phone rang. AHHHH! It's alive! Though very critically wounded. It was on cellular life-support.
The screen had perished so it was blind. It couldn't see who incoming calls where coming from or read my vital texts, and more importantly, neither could I. Though it was as blind as Heidi Klum, (she has to be blind right, I mean she has children with fucking Seal. If I ever end up with some ugly scars on my face I am going to use the same excuse Seal did, "Oh it's scars a tribe gave me when I was in Africa." And my lie makes more sense, because I am sure a tribe in Africa would be way more willing to cut up a white dude's face.) I could still make phone calls by using the voice recognition program.
All I had to do was find a ridiculously quiet place, quiet enough so that you could hear a mouse fart. Then I had to pronounce the name of the person that I wanted to call absolutely perfectly. This was a difficult task as I have an affinity for mumbling. What made this even worse is that I have all my friends listed as nicknames so I had to remember which pseudonym I gave to whom. And! the cherry on the top of all this was the name I gave to my buddy that I was meeting at the races. Mr. Chitty Chatty Bing Bang! Yup, I entered his name into my phone one drunken night. His last name is Chatfield so after losing my 7th straight game of beer pong it made perfect sense to put that as his name. It was pretty comical/fucking embarrasing, telling everyone around me at the races to, "Hussssssssh!" and then slowly yell into my cell, "Call... Chi...tee... Cha...tee... Bing... Bang!"
Long story short, well actually? I think I made this story too long. So, more like, long story finally comes to an end. I threw away my phone and since I was no longer under contract, I switched from Sprint to AT&T and I got myself an early birthday present in the form of an iPhone. Although I do love the iPhone, I still kinda feel like I am cheating on an old girlfriend of 5 years just because she got fat, slow, and blind with a new, young, brainy supermodel.
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