Sunday, September 22, 2013

1998 Called, They're Taking Your Phone

So, the Huskers played yesterday.

What this means: lots of food, lots of beer, and throwing your phone in the toilet.

Maybe throwing isn't the right word. My phone stumbled its way into the toilet. There we go.

Anyway, I've had a cell phone for 8 years. And not once have I done something like that, so you can imagine my complete confusion as to what happens next. Fortunately for me, I was surrounded by people who have experienced this trauma and the first word yelled was, "Rice!" with no hesitation.

So there I am, some time around 6 pm, drunkenly tearing apart my kitchen only to wind up empty handed in the rice department. So, we got creative. What else soaks up moisture? Pasta. Pasta should work, rotini in fact.

It doesn't work.

Although my phone didn't, my night continued. I went to a party, phoneless. I might as well have showed up pantsless, because that's how it felt. It was one of those human moments when you realize how tied to technology you are, followed by the shame of acknowledging it. I wanted to repeat the only substantial thing that came from Dr. Doolittle 2.

So, I attempted to forge on with my evening as though it didn't matter. People have been having fun, getting drunk, and doing stupid things LONG before cell phones arrived. Why couldn't I?

I couldn't.

I would have a conversation with one person, or a group of people, in which, at some point, someone would be looking at their phone, not really paying attention, or interested. It took this and the video below, for me to realize, I am that person too.

So, re-living 1998 was a meager attempt at me trying to keep my cool because I didn't have my phone. I whined like a child getting their blow up sword taken for hitting people with it. Even though, at that point, it would have been way more fun to have a blow up sword and it probably would have salvaged my evening.

The worst part is that my phone is the only thing tying me to Boyfriend, who is still gone touring. So, after enough alcohol and people asking, I cried a lot. Drunk blubbering might be more factual.

At some point during my Über ride, I was holding a squished brownie and feeling sorry for myself, mostly because I realized I left 3 unopened beers at the party, I thought, suck it up, Catie. It's a phone. It's replaceable. It's not like your DVD copy of Adventures in Babysitting fell down the toilet. And I did. I felt infinitely better, and proud of myself for coming to terms with 1998 and allowing my attention span to be broadened to good old conversations with people.

I got home, angrily scribbled "FU*K MY PHONE" on the patio chalk board and went to bed. And then cried like a little baby because I dropped my phone in the toilet. F 1998, it's 2013. Hope for my attention span is far too lost.

A few things I learned from this is, 1. back pockets aren't for phones, 2. pasta is only good for eating, and 3. you can phone order Thai food through Google. (Seriously, what can't they do?) But if you must know, a new phone is in sight. It should be here Tuesday. So, if I run into you in the meantime, don't be surprised if I'm still pissed about 1998 taking my phone.

Thanks for soundin' down.

P.S. I promise not to make a Facebook group asking for everyone's numbers.


catechism ( /ˈkætəkɪzəm/Ancient Greekκατηχισμός from kata = "down" + echein = "to sound", literally "to sound down" (into the ears), is a summary or exposition of doctrine, traditionally used inChristian religious teaching from New Testament times to the present.[1] Catechisms are doctrinal manuals often in the form of questions followed by answers to be memorized, a format that has been used in non-religious or secular contexts as well