kybearfuzz | Farewell My Cell Phone...

After a rather arduous eleven-hour day at work that involved going to a landfill, I couldn't wait to get home and get my stinky clothes in the washer. After emptying my pockets, I stripped to my birthday suit in the laundry room, tossed my rank clothes in the washer, and headed upstairs to shower.

While lathering my naked, furry body in seductive, slow-motion fashion, a thought occurred to me.... where the heck is my cell phone? My eyes grew wide in the realization of it's location. I jumped out of the shower, dripping wet, nearly tripping over Murphy the cat on the steps as I ran downstairs to the laundry room. Looking at the bookshelf where I empty my pockets, I noted that the phone wasn't there. Maybe I left it in the car, I thought, though I knew better. Opening the washer, I pulled out the wet, sopping jeans to discover a bulge in the hammer pocket of my painter's jeans. I pulled my drowned phone from the pocket, the screen on the front still lit with a bubble of water running over it.

I was excited as I thought it still has life. Did Cincinnati Bell not tell me of the phone's innate hydrophobic force-field to protect it from moisture and complete immersion? Surely if they are brilliant enough to put such a hottie as Jeremy Piven in their ads, they'd have an R&D department who could put such an extra on the phone. I opened the phone to a dead screen and lit buttons. I recalled

ericdabear's tale of the cell phone in the dishwater.. and this involved agitation prior to the rinse cycle, so I knew it was worse. I tried to dry it off, opening the back and hoping the water would drain out. Wishful thinking, naturally. I heard crackles and sizzle noises, as if the phone was coughing and gagging the words, "What the F...!" Then it died... If this isn't proof I should never babysit children, I don't know what is. I'd likely forget to take the child out of the jumper before throwing him or her into the washing machine.

After drying off and getting dressed, I booked it over to the Cincinnati Bell store, hoping the darn place was still open. I was helped by a young pretty blonde thing named Amanda, which surprisingly was spelled normally -- no "y" in the middle, silent "q", or unneeded apostrophe. I explained to Amanda the depths of my stupidity and negligence. She told me that my phone was not covered for water damage unfortunately, which wasn't a shock. Luckily the SIM card was okay, no numbers lost. She then looked at me seriously and asked if I wanted a new phone.

I refrained from rolling my eyes as I figured I had no right to point any fingers at this stage of the game.

So I basically got the same phone as before, except this one has Bluetooth... which I don't use. It does have some new ringtones and a solitare game included, which I will use. Amanda needs to market this thing to my needs. Show me how well the camera works by taking pictures of the cute bear who works in the back with his shirt off.

She tried to sell me a Bluetooth headset, but since I just dropped a lot of money for the new phone, I wasn't really in the mood to buy accessories. I don't care if it does make me look like Madonna.

After making the sale, Amanda gave me my Cincinnati Bell bag as though it were a gift. She then said "good luck!"...

... betch...