There's something about men in skinny jeans with ill advised facial hair that I just can't get behind

So my phone has been out of commission since yesterday. I was late to Zumba! and left the house without a water bottle which is IMPERATIVE since I sweat enough that once, after class, I was at the market and the check out guy asked, "Oh, did you just go swimming? And what smells?" I scrounged around in my car and unearthed a water bottle from ought nine that didn't have any suspicious floaties in it. So! Score!

I arrived at the studio and grabbed my bag as I ran towards the entrance. Something felt queer, and I looked down to notice that my entire left side was wet and that there was liquid leaking out of the bottom of my purse. The water bottle. The lid had come undone and the contents were now giving my wallet, iPhone, iPod and some assorted lip glosses a free swim. They looked like they were having a good time down there, floating around in the pool of my bag. They just needed mai tais and a beach ball and it would have been a party. I tried to play it cool, but actually was having one of those fucking huge internal crisis' since this isn't the first time I've done something like this which resulted in my frying out several (phone, iPod, camera) pieces of electronica and having to endure endless conversations with creepy IT people who immediately run you through the reboot/unplug/restart gamut when you've already done that three times BECAUSE YES YOU HAVE AN ELEMENTARY GRASP OF ELECTRONICS AND I DON'T THINK THAT HOLDING DOWN THE START BUTTON FOR A LITTLE WHILE LONGER IS GOING TO SOLVE THE PROBLEM OF MY HAVING ACCIDENTALLY DROPPED MY ENTIRE PURSE INTO THE TOILET.*

I squatted down on the stoop of the dance studio, removed all of the soaked contents and poured about 24oz of water into a nearby bush. The iPhone protested as she had been enjoying a vigorous back-stroke and immediately went to a black screen to show her displeasure. Whore. I dried everything off as best as I could, meaning I wiped it all against the dry seat of my pants, and went into class. My heart really wasn't in it as I spent most of the hour thinking about the sanctimonious boobs over at the Genius Bar who would cluck-cluck at me for allowing such a silly thing to happen and then demand my firstborn in exchange for a new phone. My hip swivel suffered. My teacher came over after to compliment me on not giving in to heart failure during class and when he saw me bent over my pile of sopping wet things and coo'ing to my phone to please stay alive he said, "Oh! You should NOT have gotten that wet! That's bad!" I think I yelled something like, "AAAARRRGGGHBLAH!" And then I kicked him in the back.

I came home and spent a long while in prayer and mental bribery (I will stop yelling "DOUCHEBAG!" whenever I see a hipster fly by on a fixie if you'll make my phone work!) while shooting warm air from the dryer into what I imagined to be the business end of my phone hoping that the moisture would evaporate and bring the innards back to life. Instead, I got a limp response - a quick flash of light which I interpreted as something akin to "Meh," and then the screen would resume its plunge into the inky maw of death. What ensued then was a lot of crying and screaming from me. Then I think I blacked out. Hard to say.

This morning I woke up and ran to my phone which I had tucked in with baby kittens and angels. It lay there blankly, mocking me with its blankness, all blank. I plugged it gingerly into iTunes. Your phone it in distress! Let's restore its factory settings and see if we can't save it, shall we? Oh please oh please oh please.

So I restored it.

Your phone is in distress! Let's restore its factory settings and see if we can't save it, shall we?

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. This happened four more times until I finally gave up and drove to work, feeling utterly cut off from the world. I actually had to WALK UP TO THE FRONT OF THE STUDIO TO CHECK MY EMAIL BETWEEN CLIENTS. I nearly sprained an ankle. I wondered how fast the payment turnaround was for selling a kidney so that I could afford a new phone. I felt ill.

I crept back to my phone as soon as work was done, thinking that perhaps in my absence it had sprung to life and would be engaging in a lively game of bridge with my computer, but still nothing. I plugged it into iTunes again. One last shot before heading to the Apple store and! BEHOLD! IT CAME TO LIFE! RESTORED! LIKE MAGIC! There was much rejoicing. I kissed the dog. (She still won't come near me.) BUT! I can once again check Facebook while I'm in the bathroom!

Down side being that I have to stop making fun of hipsters. Almost not worth the trade. Douchebags.

*AFTER it had been flushed, thankfully.