I worry about my life, not only because of the content of this post, but also because of the fact of it.

So I didn't do a post last week.  MY BAD.  So I'm going to do a real post later this week but I have to post something and right now I'm in the write mood (PAH!) which actually may be the entirely wrong mood to publicize my thoughts but here you go and I'll probably strongly regret this in the morning. 

I think I should be concerned about the state of my life, and I'll tell you why. I cannot have a nice phone.  I've realized I am not grown-up enough for that.  I bought a nice(I mean not that nice, but it wasn't a free phone.  It was like a quick upgrade but I knew even then, instinctively, that I needed to not get that fancy slider. Even though I REALLY wanted it.  But I think everyone knew I hadn't earned that privilege.) phone that was a little soldier and I loved it.  It got lots of chips in the paint, of course, because I regularly hurl it to the ground- not in rage, just in carelessness. I gesticulate wildly a lot and then before I know it my phone's across the room and I'm crawling under strangers' chairs hunting it down.  Anyway, the final straw was pretty much when I dropped it in a pitcher of pink lemonade. After drying out, it would turn on, but it got zero service.  I thought, 'Welp, best thing I can do is try to wash the lemon and sugar off.'  So I took it apart and tossed it in a glass of water, figuring that at best it would help and at worst i'd be back where i started with a phone that didn't work (I did NOT consider that if my phone wouldn't turn on anymore I would lose all my numbers, but that ended up happening later on anyway). Lo and behold, that crazy move enjoyed some measure of success. My sweet phone limped along for like six months,brave in the face of slow death by terminal water damage, which the girl at the Verizon store claimed was pretty common, but I think she was just taking undue credit for my phone's Indomitable Spirit and also Love of Me.  Anyway then I got a phone that was seriously from like 1995.  It had a *blue screen.* Legit.  I was amazed it could text.  It was ginormous and people frequently asked me if it was my home phone brought out into the world by mistake.  No, friends, it wasn't.  It was my Frankenphone.  I somehow went through a couple of phones after that and then had to go back to the Frankenphone, and now I have my current phone which was given to me by a friend.  It's been serving me faithfully for like five months, but as you can see the paint is seriously chipped.

This is due to the aforementioned Casting Aside Dramatically.  Also I pick at it sometimes when I'm nervous.  (Yes, I'm wearing my choir dress. Get over it. It's like a nightgown.)  So by now you're probably saying, so what, Janel, get over it. You trash your phone. No big deal.  But you know what? It IS a Big Deal.  It is a Very BIG DEAL.  And I will tell you why.  (This is where I probably start my sassy side to side head motions that I cannot explain. I usually also put my finger in the air at this point.) I LOVE my phone.  If it was like, you can have your phone with you or you can eat today, I don't know what you would choose but I know what Sharon Stone and I would do.  We would keep our damn phone.  Sharon Stone LOVES to text (probably) and SO DO I.  I love texting more than the average person for sure and am uncomfortably addicted to it.  When I'm having a serious conversation with a friend about life problems but my phone buzzes, I have to do that leg-shaking thing that sometimes people do that you're sharing a couch or lunch table with and you're like STOP SHAKING THE TABLE, ASSHOLE. But you can't help it because you have to get rid of all that nervous energy, wondering who's calling or texting you.  And once it buzzes three times and stops then you know it's a text and so you're like, okay it can wait, but I still REALLY want to know what it is and respond pronto.  But then if it keeps buzzing you're like oh man somebody's calling me and it *might* just be the love of my life, how am I to know? But even so I know that if it's a number I don't have saved I am pretty much never going to answer it anyway.  What if it's that guy who kept calling in every night during closing when I worked at Victoria's Secret? That was a creepy man that I hope I never meet in real life.  The thing is, I don't know his name so I could actually meet him at any time and NOT EVEN KNOW IT.  That man is roaming around loose somewhere and making creepy phone calls to innocent lingerie salespeople.  RUDE.  Anyway the point is I really want to know who's calling or texting me.  My closest relationship in life is probably with my cell phone (because the pickins are slim, folks... but at the same time of course I'm not saying my phone is a backup, I love it for who it is).  So, okay, you're probably still a little confused. Like, okay, you destroy your phone.  Okay, you love your phone and destroy it anyway.  So what?  I'LL TELL YOU SO WHAT. I am REASONABLY CONFIDENT that this is the way I treat all the things I love best- I destroy them.  Isn't that a charming thought? I mean yeah, I also do lots of nice things for people I love such as feed them and tell them I love their sweaters.  But also I destroy them with my inability to Handle With Care.  This is why I really need an LG phone, because I hear they solder their parts instead of glue which allegedly makes the thing more durable, but I'm not sure what kinds of friends are the most durable.  Bubble Boys?  But then at some point you know that bubble is going to get a hole or something and you know those people are super vulnerable from not growing any antibodies and all of a sudden the immune system is compromised and guess what?  You just gave your best and only friend chicken pox or some such shit which doesn't sound that bad but if your body has never been sick and has no idea how to fight that off, you just KILLED your best friend.  Via chicken pox.  Good one.  I bet it would be embarrassing to die of chicken pox in this day and age.  Or any, mostly because who wants to be killed by a chicken? They're like the most retarded, dirty animal of all time and if you put them on one side of a six foot chain link fence and some food on the other side, they will just keep walking into that fence imagining that one of these times they'll be able to walk through.  They can't just walk around.  They're dumber than a fly.  And you just made a chicken kill your best friend so not only is your friend itchy and then dead, but also humiliated. *Good one.*  (This is where I snap my fingers in Z-formation as if to say, 'Mischief Managed.)

UPDATED:

I forgot to mention, one of the biggest things I do to my phone is text in the shower.  That has led to the demise of many a phone.  It's because I love it too much to leave it alone for half an hour.  Make an analogy of THAT, if you can.