March 13, 2014
It’s a Saturday afternoon, you’re hungover in bed perusing Facebook and torturing yourself trying to decide whether you want actually make moves to get brunch or just order a salad aka a bagel on Seamless. Naturally, as you do with all major life decisions, you avoid them. So you go to check instagram. But fuck. Where’s your phone? You’ve literally looked everywhere. To your left. Your right. Behind you. Where the fuck is it!? I mean it couldn’t have possibly gone that far, it’s your third arm therefore it’s always within an arms length away. Math right? Shit now you have to get up and then like, call the bar from last night and/or your dad, this is about get serious. But like omg you can’t call! You don’t have your phoneeeeeeee!!!
OMG OMG OMG I have literally all my credit cards written down in Notes and like the password to every email, social media, and shopping website, account I have! Ugh someone is going to fuck with my instagram. Omg what if they fuck with my bank account? Ehhh there’s that fraud alert shit right? Omg I totally wrote down my feelings one time when I was super high in a different Note that’s SO embarrassing I HAVE to find my phone. Isn’t the one pro of a cracked screen that no one wants to steal it? Is 1212 passcode hard to break? SHIT! WHERE IS IT.
It has to be here somewhere here. I always do this and it's always the same situation as my other valuables -- I'm sitting on it. So you calm down. You know it's around. But after a few seconds of it totally not being around you go back creating chaos stomping through your entire apartment. At this point your entire bedding is on the floor. Your downstairs neighbor probs thinks there's a Jumanji situation going on upstairs. You have gone through your bag, your wallet, your jacket pockets, your outfits pockets, your couch cushions. You mass Facebook messaged your besties Did anyone see me leave with my phone last night!??!!? EMERGENCIA!!! They’re like Noo we don’t remember we were soooooo drunk lol!! You want to scream THIS ISN’T FUNNY BITCHES. You’re straight up hyperventilating. If someone saw you right now they’d tell you to chill with the mouth quiver, Carrie Mathison.
You get your shit together. Saying oh my god and almost pulling your hair out of your head isn’t going to get your pretty gold phone back. Time to do work. Check find my iPhone. WTF is your iCloud password. Shit phone is turned off. You have a friend call the bar. They’re obvi not open till like 6pm. You sit down for a second and try to remember what you were doing with your phone last night. You think about who you were texting. Did you take it out to make any calls? Did you try to order food? Did you hold it out in a crowd of people and yell Free iPhone! Who wants it? Ugh you guys are so randommmmm. Nothing.
I’m like literally depressed. I don’t have an upgrade till May 2015, and I have the earliest upgrade on my family’s plan. Ugh my life is over. At this point you feel defeated. You email your dad. Dad someone stole my phone last night I’M SO SORRY. Do you think Verizon can give us an early upgrade because we’ve been suchhhhhh loyal customers for so many years?????? Do you have an iPhone 4 I can have? Can I just have your iPhone 5? Please <3 His response: Hi sweetie, no, no, and you're joking?
You fucking hate when people say FML because it’s so passé but FML. Now you have to go harass your friends and people in extended circles for an iPhone 4. AN IPHONE 4. That shit is so slow and your selfies will be like, significantly smaller. You feel SO on the same page as Annie right now.
When you’re lucky: You settle for the 4 but you definitely do not keep it until fooking May. You somehow swindle Verizon or AT&T to push your upgrade date via flirting, bribing or stumbling upon a disgruntled/corrupt employee.
When you’re stupid: You go through all the steps of getting the 4 that day. When you’re home, somewhat satisfied you go to get a water from your fridge and low and behold there is your iPhone 5 chillin next to the string cheese.
When you DGAF: You charge a new iPhone 5 to your dad’s Mastercard. Saying yolo, priceless.