The other night at the bar, I dropped my iPhone in the toilet.
This is a public toilet, mind you, and the piss-infected toilet water was such a deep shade of yellow that it was almost orange. That’s a shitload of mixed stranger’s piss and who the hell knows what kind of STDs, but I didn’t hesitate for a second to plunge my hand in after it. I was able to pull my phone out before any serious damage was done and then very quickly ran it under the faucet in order to wash off the AIDS. Then of course I washed my hands, put my dick back in my pants, and joined my friends back at the bar, where I immediately told them what happened. The women of course are like, “Ew!” but the males said, “Fuck yeah, I would have done the same thing!” Dudes understand that $400 is a lot of money. I have insurance, but it doesn’t cover cracked phones and I’m guessing toilet piss is out of the plan.
The point is how addicted to this phone I’ve become, because it wasn’t money that crossed my mind when watching my lifeline fall in the piss. It was more like, “HOLY, FUCK! MY FUCKING PHONE!! MY WHOLE LIFE!!!”
It was pure panic. I probably would have dived in if it had been a pool of piss. Floating turds, I wouldn’t have cared. It was as if watching the child I don’t have drown in the ocean and here’s the thing: I don’t get a crazy number of emails. I’m not one of these Instagram models that gets 5,000 likes every picture, and only a very select group of people text message me on the reg. My phone isn’t really a “lifeline” at all. I just think it is. Anytime I’m away from it for any period of time, I expect my home screen to be flooded with notifications, which it usually isn’t rare.
My iPhone activity breaks down like so:
15% – Text messages.
5% – Facebook.
5% – Instagram.
30% – Twitter.
30% – Games.
10% – Email.
1% – Phone calls.
2% – Voice mails.
2% – Flashlight.
It’s pathetic, I know. Why am I so attached to this fucking thing? 13% of my iPhone use is actually worth a fuck. Everything else is bullshit, but somehow I’m convinced I can’t live without it. Maybe next time I can drop it on the sidewalk, watch it bounce in the street, and be killed by a Mack truck while trying to save it.