best of craigslist > philadelphia > I dropped my phone in the toilet. - w4m
Originally Posted: 2006-08-28 2:09am

I dropped my phone in the toilet. - w4m

So we knew each other from before. And I came to see you, as promised. I was waiting for you to ask for my number; it seemed almost certain that you would. Then my friend came back and told me you had asked her for my number, but she didn't have her phone... this was an unorthodox method on your part, but okay, that's enough for me.

So I got up to go to the bathroom, knowing that I would go past you on the way back. My friends wanted to leave, so I figured I'd just give my number to you and we'd catch up later. As I approached the women's room, I heard two voices emanating from within the room meant for one person. Man, cocaine gets on my effin nerves.

Too impatient to wait for the inhabitants of said women's room to exit, I opt to just use the men's room. It is also a one-person bathroom, so I don't mind. I'm just going to pee in it; its not like its that important. Meh. So I go in and take care of business, being a tad more mindful of touching things than normal. Not wanting to place my cute little hand-woven clutch bag on the nasty toilet tank, I tuck it under my arm while I wash my hands. The hand washing is quickly followed by a need for paper towels, which this men's room ... quite miraculously... actually has? Yay!! I lean forward gleefully to take some, and hear an ominous *plunk*. Oh NO.

But it has happened. My entire cute little hand-woven clutch bag has fallen out of the crook of my arm and into this filthy men's room toilet. I give a little resigned sigh... grimly accepting that there's only one thing to do... pull it out. Its a long, rectangular handbag, and only half of it is wet. I open up my poor, sodden bag and remove my quite recently purchased Razr phone. The screen is black. Hoping for the best, I put it in my back pocket. Now for the bag... Its half soaked, and of a light color. I realize that it would not take a mastermind to deduce what I had done. So I opt to turn on the faucet and soak the whole bag, figuring that it will at least appear somewhat normal at a glance.

After doing this, I decide that I will of course pretend that this hasn't happened, give you my number as previously planned, and make a speedy exit before I am caught in this situation. Somehow, I don't think that "Girl Who Dropped Her Purse in the Toilet" is what I wish to be known as. Not exactly "alluring". My purse literally dripping wet, I leave the bathroom, saying a prayer of thanks to Bob and Barbara's for poor lighting. I walk up, and say quite frankly that I want to give you my number. You mention about calling me to meet up later in the week, I say that would be great, yeah, okay, bye. I get a plastic bag from the bartender, and leave with my friends in tow.

So my phone is ruined. I use my friend's phone to leave a message stating that my phone is "broken" and please leave your number, you know the drill. But after I go to work the next morning, lo and behold... Resurrection!!! My Razr is back from the dead!!! Oh, little phone, I would kiss you if I didn't know the filthy places you've been! I gloriously re-record my message, leaving my normal greeting. I skip off to a concert that night, several hours later, and whip out my zombie phone to call my friend... aw CRAP!!! It's dead again. Dammit. Oh well.

I eventually find my friend, and use her phone to check my messages. {insert creepy robot lady voice here} "You have... *two*... unheard messages. *First* unheard message..." Its my friend that I'm already hanging out with, wondering where I am. No need to listen to you, first unheard message. I decide to press the 7 key twice to delete the message while it's still playing and move on to the next, my impatience of course slightly increased because I'm eager to see if you've called. Girls can't help this. 7-7... "Delet-Deleted. First saved message." I pull the phone away and stare at it, wide eyed. You son of a bitch. Oh, you dirty, rotten, bastard of a jerk-ass phone... YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!?!?!?


So I think I dealt with my other adversities pretty well. You can't get through life without a couple of phones in the toilet. But it more than sucks that I have no way to know whether you called the very next day and left a message I will never hear, or whether you never called at all, quite possibly because you may have noticed my mysteriously dripping handbag.

Such is life.

  • this is in or around the story of my life
  • no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

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