Thoughts on SOPA

Everybody and their Mom is talking about the pending legislation in Congress aimed at stopping online piracy and protecting intellectual property. While it doesn’t look like either chamber of Congress will vote on the legislation anytime soon, both the Senate bill (PIPA) and the House bill (SOPA) continue to cause a lot of controversy, leading some websites such as Wikipedia to go offline for 24 hours in protest, and leading many a Facebook friend- including several whom I’m pretty sure would not be able to identify a picture of Joe Biden- to post links to various petitions aimed at stopping this legislation.

While the stated goals of both bills are good, I agree that these bills, in their current form, are poor legislation and I’m encouraged to see The CATO Institute, The Heritage Foundation, The Drudge Report, Senator Marco Rubio, Representative Paul Ryan, and other conservative leaders come out in opposition to these bills.

But here’s my thing: Both congress and the state legislature address issues that are just as consequential as SOPA/PIPA, if not more so, on a regular basis. We shouldn’t require that an issue become a trending topic on Twitter, receive a celebrity spokesperson, or lead a major website to go offline in order for us to become engaged in this process.

I remember when I was an intern at the state capitol. The Senator I worked for that year sponsored what I believed was a very important bill, which would have allowed individuals who were victims of rape or abuse the opportunity to break a lease agreement and relocate to a safe place without having to face financial ruin. We issued a press release before the bill came up for a vote in committee, made information about the bill available on Facebook and the Senator’s website, etc., but we really weren’t ever able to drum up a lot of support or excitement for that legislation. There wasn’t much of an appetite for it in the media. Because people were not aware of what was going on, the lobbyists for the Tennessee Apartment Association came in and killed the bill. The day the bill came up for a vote in committee, you could hear crickets across the halls of our office building and the committee room- which is open to the public- was empty. The bill died and that was that.

Weeks later, the ‘Guns in Bars’ bill came up for a vote and it was chaos. Phones were ringing off the hook. Our office was inundated with emails. Supporters of the bill flooded the balcony of the Senate chamber. Constituents called telling me that if the Senator I worked for did not vote a certain way on this one bill, they would see to it that she was not reelected.

Do you see the point I’m making?

PIPA/SOPA is an important issue and yes, they are bad bills, but they aren’t the only items of legislation this year that I believe demand our attention.

The Tennessee state legislature, for example, is scheduled to take up a bill in the Senate Judiciary Committee next week which would make the sale of “designer drugs” known as “bath salts” and “Molly’s Plant Food,” illegal in the state of Tennessee (SB2172). This is important legislation. Tennessee- and especially the Upper Cumberland region of the state, where I live- has a real drug problem. Right now, manufacturers can take an illegal drug and make a chemical change of as little as one molecule, and create a substance that isn’t illegal. This bill will end that practice, and in doing so- save many lives.

Don’t wait for someone to tell you that something is important before you act on it. Be engaged in the process year round, and speak up on those issues that matter to you.

Thinking of all my D.C. congressional staffer friends today. Hope you’re able to catch a break at some point

-Jonathan

The First Day

Today started the first day of my last semester of college. As I do about many things on a regular basis (i.e., what I’m going to eat for lunch on a given day, when I can’t get the Netflix to work, when I notice the slightest hint of disorganization or messiness in my apartment-thus setting off my OCD tendencies) I panicked.

I would like to think that I’m fairly mature and responsible, and I know that when I graduate I’ll be ready for it, but still, the thought of being out in the real world seems kind of daunting. I still don’t even know what the heck a 401K is. Until very recently, I thought it was some sort of a race or marathon. Do I have one? How do I get one? Maybe I should ask the payroll lady at Kroger. Or my Mom. Or Google.

Also, I feel like I don’t have any of those trendy, professional adult hobbies. I don’t golf, eat sushi, smoke cigars, play chess, or go to wine tastings. Instead I watch Celebrity Rehab, still order the funny face pancake off the children’s menu at IHOP, and wear out the “Fat Booth” iPhone app with my friends so we can see what everyone we know would look like if they had 6 chins. Sophisticated, right?

Anyway, as a second semester college senior, I don’t prepare as much for the first day of class as I used to. Freshman year, I pre-ordered all of my textbooks, and had bought a notebook and folder for every class two weeks before school started. I was that guy. This year, I came to class empty handed but I still got there about 30 minutes early. At Tennessee Tech there is this unspoken code that you do not move from the seat that you choose on the first day for the rest of the semester, and I learned the hard way sophomore year that if you don’t arrive to class early on the first day, you end up sitting by the kid that smells like a mixture of cigarettes, a wet dog, and tuna fish for the entire semester. I’m not doing that again.

After class let out, I went to work. I wasn’t scheduled to be there, but one of the technicians made lasagna and as we’ve established, there is very little that I won’t do for a free meal. This was my text message conversation with my pharmacist, Lisa, this afternoon:

ME: Is lasagna still happening? And how tacky would it be if I came by and got some?
LISA: Pretty tacky . . .  [She was kidding. I think.]
ME: Well how about if I came to say hi to everybody and then just happened to take some lasagna while I was there?
LISA: Still tacky. But then again, we’re used to you.
ME: Okay I’ve been sitting out in the parking lot waiting for the OK. I’m walking in right now.

I have no shame.

Hope you’re all having a good Thursday! Stay safe out there in the crazy blizzard (read: flurries and light rain).

-Jonathan

The Nightmare Before Christmas (aka the Frank Family Christmas Card Saga)

Happy Chrismakwanzakah y’all!

As of yesterday at 5:00 PM I am officially done with fall semester of my senior year. Which is really exciting until I consider that I have one more semester until I’m in the real world. Then I think about getting a job, paying back my student loans, paying on a mortgage, having kids, my hair going gray, what hobbies I’ll have to occupy my time in my old age . . . then I just get tired.

Anyway, now that finals are over, I suppose it’s time to change out of the tracksuit (which incidentally, has never been used for purposes of an athletic activity), hat, & glasses I’ve been wearing for the past week and return to things such as bathing regularly, and stop doing things like eating almost an entire pizza at 3 AM and obsessively making flash cards and reciting terms and dates in my sleep.

I feel like I’ve already forgotten most of what I learned this semester.  Except I do remember reading in my “History of Crime in America” class that 60% of serial killers wet the bed regularly as adults. I found that statistic fascinating.

During the weekend that separated the last week of regular classes and final exams at Tech, I went home to take Christmas card pictures with my family. True to tradition, there was never a dull moment.

As I arrived home, my Mom was pulling out of the driveway. “Where are you going?” I yelled. She announced that she was going to pick up the neighbors so that they could take showers at our house. Their hot water heater busted.

I said a silent prayer thanking God that for once it was someone else’s family.

As I made my way on into the house, I saw that everyone was getting ready for Christmas card pictures. So naturally, it was complete chaos. I ducked one flying hair brush, stepped on 3 hair clips, and ingested a cloud of hairspray on my way to my room (aka the couch in the bonus room).  This year, my Mom wanted all of us to wear a shirt from our school for pictures, and then we had also brought a change of clothes in case those didn’t turn out. Our first stop was Moss Wright park.

I give you, the Frank Family Christmas card rejects. Round 1:

Then we had an idea. There was this really scenic house down the road that we were pretty sure nobody lived in, so we changed clothes while driving in the car, and headed there to take a few more pictures. I suppose it was kinda sorta trespassing, especially since there were signs posted all over the yard, but hey- we’ve done worse things. And I knocked on the door first to make sure nobody was home. We were there for about 15 minutes and had taken a few good pictures when we spotted the homeowners. A very short conversation ensued, and then we left. Quickly. 

It’s the oddest thing. People get so angry when a family of six sets up camp on their private property and takes pictures. I wanted to interject and tell the homeowner that if he knew my family, he wouldn’t think anything of it, but decided against it.

We then headed out to my grandparents’ farm across town. At this point I think we had basically given up:

A couple hours and 117 pictures later, we did somehow manage to end up with a few pictures we could use. It was a Christmas miracle! Knowing our track record with Christmas cards, many of you can be expecting yours in the mail sometime around Martin Luther King Day. Also, you can probably expect some sort of attempt at humor. Christmas cards in the past have said things such as:

“Merry Christmas! From ‘We Three Franks.’”  (1997)

“Wishing you a ‘Tender Tennessee Christmas’ . . . From Connecticut!” (2000)

“We know this card is late, but who said Jesus was born on December 25th anyway?”  (1996)

I’m actually not kidding.

Anyway, even though I’m out of class for the semester, I’m staying in Cookeville until the 22nd to work at the pharmacy, and then coming back to ring in 2012 by working there on New Years Day, which depresses me just a little. I suspect we’ll sell lots of phentermine, Nicorette patches, and Viagra to account for all those New Year’s resolutions people made.

But for now, it’s back to the How I Met Your Mother marathon I’m watching. Ah, being done with school for a month sure is nice!

Until next time, I hope you and yours have a Merry Christmas!

-Jonathan

28 Days

That’s how many days are left until my very favorite day of the year! Also, I couldn’t think of a witty title for this blog post so I just decided to go with that. Anyway . . .

I’ve been a terrible blogger lately. Stupid school takes up all my time. I’m three weeks behind on “Modern Family”. That’s how busy I’ve been. Also, the column I write each week for my school newspaper takes a lot of time to work on and after I’ve written that each week sometimes I just don’t feel like writing. I’m having a lot of fun with The Oracle though. It took me a while to get the hang of it. I can be honest enough to say that a couple of those first columns kinda sucked,  but I’m pleased with what the response has been lately. If you haven’t had a chance to, I hope you’ll read some of my recent columns about the pro-life movement, Occupy Wall Street, anti-Islamic sentiments in the state legislature, and- most importantly- Kim Kardashian.

But don’t read all of that unless you’re really, really bored. Or maybe if you have to use the bathroom and you know you’re gonna be a while but you don’t have any good magazines available to you.

I just got back from a moot court competition in Nashville. I know- kinda geek-ish, right? But as much as I’d love to pretend not to, I really do enjoy it. I’ve decided that the only organizations on campus that are too dorky for me are the Quiddich club, the Dungeons and Dragons group, and maybe the Society of Clarinets. Everything else is fair game.

Our team did really well this year, coming in 3rd place. If I was a better person I would say that it was a great learning experience, and we went just to have fun and yada yada yada. Pssh. Forget that. I just wanted to beat those hoity-toity, overconfident kids from Rhodes College, and we did! Yeah they had perfectly coiffed hair, tailored suits, higher ACT scores, and arrived in their own private bus, but we beat them dadgummit! The fact that we come from a school in Cookeville, Tennessee that everyone still thinks is a community college and seems to mentally picture as being next to a Subway in a strip-mall made the victory that much sweeter.

Also, I have to tell you about the lawyer from Tennessee State University. I’m pretty sure English was not his first language. He had a very strong accent and- pardon my crudeness here- he used the phrase “hardship” a lot in the course of his oral argument and I swear every time he said the word it honestly sounded as though he was saying “hot sh*t.” There was audible laughter in the room each time he used the word.

“Your honor, we must consider the hardship being placed on the respondent today.”
“Ultimately, this case is a matter of hardship.”
“We must expand the provisions of the equal protections clause in our state to stop this hardship!” 

It was around his second utterance of the word that I developed what I call the church giggles. I was sitting in the back of the room biting my lip and staring at my feet, trying so hard to keep from laughing. Some light laughter was emitted so I started coughing to cover it up. Then more laughs. The harder I tried to stifle it, the more I wanted to laugh. It was terrible. But in my defense, my professor and half of the other competitors were doing it too.

The week after moot court competition was, of course Thanksgiving which I consider to basically just be a dress rehearsal for the real holiday that comes a month later: Christmas. This year I did something I’ve never done before and joined in on the Black Friday madness.

Worst idea ever.

I went to the Wal Mart in Madison, TN which is always an interesting cultural experience anyway and presents a slight risk of getting assaulted any day of the year but this day was especially crazy. If I go next year, I’m bringing a Kevlar vest, and a lawn chair and a book for while I’m waiting in line.

The lines for each checkout aisle stretched all the way to the back wall of the store, and everyone was very possessive of their spot. Each time someone tried to casually ease their way into the line, someone would inevitably yell out, “We’ve got a cutter!!” and then the angry mob would direct the person back to their proper spot in the back of the line.  I saw a few intense arguments too. If there is one thing I’ve learned from my black friday experience, it’s don’t get in the way of a pissed off soccer mom on a mission. Those ladies will literally shop to the death.

The whole time I was standing in line I was pretty much getting groped from all sides. I felt like a female Herman Cain staffer. Apparently there is no such thing as personal space at Wal Mart on black friday. The woman in front of me in line kept whispering strange things to me:

“Stay close!”
“Keep your eye on that lady in the black sweater.”
“Did you see that man just try to cut in line?! Who the %#$* does he think he is?!”
“I got this Blu Ray player for $50! Can you believe that?”
“So anyway, my son and his baby mama are having problems again . .  .”

I feel like we really bonded.

Anyway, I’ve got to go work on this project for my Constitutional Law class that I guess is kinda sorta important so that’s all for now, friends. Stay well and drink some egg nog for me! Or boiled custard. Whichever you prefer really.

Jonathan’s Big Night Out

I’m 21 years old, but I feel like in a lot of ways I’m sort of an old soul. I love a good episode of “Mama’s Family,” am oddly fascinated by the weather, relate all too well with the senior citizens that come by the pharmacy where I work, and still occasionally rock the sweater vest. I don’t apologize. Oh, and on the night of my 21st birthday I was, wait for it . . . at church. By choice. They were serving pizza.

I’m just not a big party person. I have plenty of good friends that are, but I find all of that to be just a little intimidating. Happy Hour at SONIC is where it’s at for me. But the other night, I got dragged into going downtown for a friend’s birthday party. Here is the story of Jonathan’s big night out: (aka how I ended up asleep on the table in a Waffle House at 3 AM)

My friend Brittany turned 22 recently and that weekend we went to Nashville to celebrate the occasion. There were about 6 of us that went out and, per her request, we all wore 1980′s-era attire. Some people went all out with their costumes. I just wore a “Reagan/Bush 1984″ shirt. Which, I actually wear on a normal basis anyway because I love it. Stop laughing.

The night started with a random bluegrass festival at the Nashville Renaissance Hotel. I knew then that this would be an interesting evening. There were people playing music all over that hotel. It was a circus. In the lobby, the elevator area of every floor, down the hallways of guest rooms– people were playing music everywhere. There was no safe refuge from the banjos. We were getting a lot of strange looks too because of the costumes in our group, which I thought was ironic because many of the people looking at us as if we were crazy had little to no teeth.

Then we left, and headed down Broadway in search of “Decades.” Apparently it’s a club that plays 80′s music.We found it, but they had gone out of business. At this point I suggested an alternative inside my comfort zone–  Sbarro’s Pizza and LaserQuest. Good, clean, Baptist fun, right? This idea was not well received. So we continued on in search of our next adventure, with me reaching in my back pocket to make sure my wallet was still there about every 10 seconds.

Fifteen minutes and three solicitations for money from panhandlers later, we ended up at a very classy establishment called “Ms. Kelly’s Karaoke” on Printer’s Alley (where people get stabbed). Shortly after getting there I realized, these are not my people. First off, I was getting a lot of flack for the Ronald Reagan shirt. Turns out, the middle-of-the-night, Nashville bar crowd are not Reagan fans. Who knew? I told my friend that the Reagan constituency was probably in bed by now so that they could arrive on time to church in the morning. Second of all, I don’t sing, drink, or dance, and those seem to be kinda like the 3 things that you do at a karaoke bar.I did, however, meet two very nice ladies named Melba and Shameica. They sang a duet of that “Money Money Money” song that plays at the beginning of every episode of The Apprentice . . . . then Melba threw up behind the pool table while Shameica held her hair. That’s true friendship ya’ll. It was kind of inspiring.

Anyway, 2 AM rolled and and after several hours of nervously sipping on my watered down Diet Coke, pretending to text on my phone, and cheering on the various intoxicated performers, my friends decided it was time to head out. I did not protest this decision. We were hungry though, so before going home we made a stop at the Waffle House.

I fell asleep at the table.

When I woke up, there was this gruff, heavily tattooed, angry looking lady in my face and I thought I was about to get mugged. Turns out it was just the waitress. Her name was Krystal, but I feel like a more fitting name would have been “Helga” or perhaps “Bertha.” Listen, I don’t judge and I don’t know this lady’s life but uh, she’s assaulted someone– or at the very least, pulled a girl’s weave out in a fit of rage– at least once. Let’s just be honest. Also, I’m going to have to assume that dental coverage is not part of her benefits package.

Anyway, Krystal/Helga/Bertha was handing out everybody’s food and I decided I wanted to order something too. In my tired state I, for some reason, asked for a double order of hashbrowns smothered, covered, and topped. If you frequent the Waffle House then, first of all you have terrible taste, but also you know what that means: I ordered hashbrowns with chilli, cheese and onions. Worst. Idea. Ever.  Why, oh why, did someone not stop me? There was an all out war raging within my digestive tract for like an entire day after that. Truly, my body still has not fully forgiven me.

By 4 AM I was home with major heartburn and absolutely exhausted. I’m thinking next time I’ll suggest dinner and a movie.

Group Projects, The Potter’s Box, and Weezer (not the band)

Hello World.

My 1:30 class was canceled today so I’m catching up on “The Sing Off” and updating the ‘ol blog … and doing so in a different pair of clothes than the ones I went to my first class in this morning.

I take a travel mug of coffee to class with me every morning and I should have known that one of these days, it would get knocked over. Today was that day. Blonde girl with the huge backpack walked in to class and accidentally knocked it over sending a mug full of hot coffee all over me, the desk, and the floor. So embarrassing. She kept apologizing and I was just trying to play it cool, “Oh it’s no big deal! You’re fine!” — As I’m wringing out my coffee-drenched sweater over the trash can. Luckily, it was before class started so a lot of people weren’t there. And I think I did a pretty good job of pretending to not be as uncomfortable or embarrassed as I really was.

We’re also starting group projects in that class and today I got paired with that person who everyone wants to avoid working with at all costs. I’m not Facebook friends with anybody in that class and none of you are going to know who I’m talking about. She has complete anonymity– so I’m going to vent about her. First of all, don’t feel sorry for her. I’m very friendly to her, and I’m sympathetic to the fact that everyone has their own story and stuff going on in their lives and Lord knows I’m a little socially awkward at times myself, but as far as I can tell this girl is just obnoxiously annoying and doesn’t have any good excuse for it.

This is the girl that on the first day of class, asked the teacher if she had tips for students with “high test anxiety,” then in another class, asked to be excused from the room when we were watching a documentary about executions in the Roman empire because, as she says, “I have a sensitive stomach and am disturbed by violence.”  And she has a story for everything. Everything. It’s gotten so bad that the professor just ignores her. This is an example from this morning in my public relations class:

PROFESSOR: Who remember’s what “The Potter’s Box” is, from chapter 5?
STUDENT: Oh my goodness. That just reminded me of the funniest story about my Dad!
PROFESSOR: Does anybody remember?
STUDENT:  You see, he worked at this restaurant one time . ..
PROFESSOR: It’s on page 135 in your textbook.
STUDENT:  And he worked with this one person and his last name was Potter. Isn’t that crazy? (laughs hysterically)
PROFESSOR:  It’s a model for ethical decision making developed by Ralph Potter . . . .

You get the idea. Anyway, when the professor announced that we were breaking into groups for an assignment, she immediately blurted out “I call Jonathan! I call Jonathan!” and then preceded to tell everyone in the class that we “really connect.”  The professor, in her great mercy, then turned to me to ask if that arrangement was okay.

No. No it’s not. Please, Dr. Wilson! Save me. Help. I’ll do anything!

“Sure! That’d be great,” I said with a forced smile.

—

In other news, I got a dog–then turned right back around and got rid of it, making me “one of those people.” I know, I know, that’s really irresponsible.  My roommates and I got the dog about three weeks ago. And it was great . . . for about an hour. Then he peed on everything in the house, including but not limited to: the area rug in the den, the couch, the love seat, the kitchen floor, and about 5 times he hiked it up and peed all over the air vent. That can’t be healthy. So three weeks, a can of “Hot Shot” carpet cleaner, a bottle of extra strength Febreze, one “Fur Fighter,” (for getting dog hair off the couch)  and 5 plug-it-ins later, Weezer the pug is no more. We had him put to sleep.

Totally kidding. Now he lives with some girl named Cassandra. I think he’ll be happier there. I liked him but I just felt bad because we were all so busy so he spent a lot of time in his cage or chained up outside and it’s hard sharing a dog among several people because sometimes we all assumed that the other person would take care of a certain responsibility and it never ended up getting done. It’s for the better. And now our apartment doesn’t smell like the inside of the humane society anymore.

So long, Weezer.

Taken right before he projectile vomited all over the living room then ran off through the open back door and lead me on a chase through the nearby housing projects. Good times, good times.

Well that’s about all for now, friends. I haven’t been paying attention to The Sing Off, so I’m going to rewind and try again. I think I like Sara Bareilles as a judge this year.

Until the next time I get super bored or something really comical, terrible or profound happens,
Jonathan

School. Bleh.

Hello World!

Sorry for disappearing for a little while, but I’m making up for lost time and have a lot to share!

The semester has started at Tennessee Tech. I was really excited to see a lot of my friends and professors again and get back into my classes. That lasted for about thirty minutes on the first day. Now I’ve completely lost interest, am tired and ready for Christmas break. And I’m ticked off too because all of my teachers take attendance this semester. Confession: Since the start of my freshman year, I skipped classes in which the teacher did not take attendance at least once a month. Usually more. And then there were classes like Biology that I showed up to a twice the entire semester. Those were the days.

My juvenile delinquency professor is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met except whenever he talks it sounds like he needs to clear his throat. It really bothers me. Also, he has a strong passion -I’m gonna go ahead and call it an obsession- with cats. And I’m really not sure that it’s healthy. The man freakin’ loves cats. He has like 6 or 7. Thus, he kind of smells like a litter box. I mean that in the nicest way possible. He got choked up in class on the first day talking about one of his cats that had passed away a while ago and the signature line on his email is a quote attributed to Albert Einstein saying something about how music and cats are the two escapes from the miseries of life. I mean, that’s definitely my motto. I don’t know about you.

My theater class is in the nursing building. Naturally. I’m really enjoying it so far. The teacher is kind of a hippie but in a good way. If they ever had a movie version of The Magic School Bus with live actors, she would definitely be cast as the part of Mrs. Frizzell. Also, on the first day of class, I took two slices of pizza from the nursing student lounge when nobody was in there and ate them in my car. I apologize to all TTU nursing students.

My history class is in the basement of the women’s residence hall next to the laundry room because one of the buildings at Tech used for classroom space is being remodeled. There are no windows so it kind of feels like an interrogation room, especially when we’re having class discussions over stuff I forgot to read in the textbook. Also, it’s a small class that meets down there and I don’t think most people know about it, so every time I walk into the women’s dorm for class I feel like everyone thinks I’m some sort of pervert. Sigh.

On top of classes, I’m also working as an assistant editor for the school newspaper. I know that’s apparently not the coolest thing to do, but I mean I fell asleep at 10:00 last night watching TV Land. Let’s be honest, the role fits me. I can accept that. And yes, TTU friends- you’re school has a newspaper. It’s free. For the love of all that is good, pick up a copy. Please. Don’t do this on the day it comes out, but after it’s been sitting in the bins for a couple days you have my permission to grab a couple copies to use to line your household pet’s crate. Oh, and we have crossword puzzles! Take a look at my sweet cubicle:

Please note the Dollar Store American flag in the right hand corner of the picture. All of the other editors make fun of it. They're just jealous.

On an unrelated note, one of my roommates recently moved out to get his own place and another friend moved in, so during the course of all of this we’ve lost some furniture, acquired new furniture, and have just been doing some rearranging, and I was excited to find this at the store the other day for $10:

“Wow, look at that canvas with the names of all those cities painted on it!” I said to my equally naive friend. She liked it too, so I bought it. Well, as you probably immediately knew from looking at that picture, those are apparently not the names of cities written on the canvas, but rather various types of wine. I had no idea. I don’t drink. I could have sworn I’ve heard of at least 2 or 3 of these “places”. But anyway it was $10, I’ve lost the receipt, and is covering up a big nail hole- so for now, it stays. Maybe I’ll paint over it with the names of all my favorite soft drinks- Mountain Dew, Diet Coke, Orange Cream Soda, etc. That would be classy, right?

That’s all for now, friends. Hope you’re all having a good semester!

PS- The first issue of the newspaper for this year publishes Friday, the 16th. I’m excited to be contributing two columns in this first week and it would really mean a lot to me if you’d check it out! You can also find us online at www.tntechoracle.com

When Tragedy Strikes

Listen, I don’t want to be dramatic, but today is the worst day in the history of the entire world. I’m mourning the loss of a dear friend: my iPhone. This has been a very difficult time for me, and I appreciate the outpouring of sympathy. In lieu of flowers, please send cash. Or used cell phones, whichever really.

Yesterday started out like any other day. I went in to work, running late as usual, and still feeling a little iffy from the taco I had the night before. I was scheduled to work a 9 to 3. We were steady the entire day, but never overwhelmingly, crazy busy. At 3:00, seeing that there was still a lot to be done before we closed at 6 that evening, I offered to stay late. Mistake #1

A few minutes later, my manager casually asked me if I might feel like going to the back of the store to help put up our truck order of supplies that had come in that morning. “Sure!” I said. Mistake #2

Then, while putting up the order, I realized I have to pee. So I went to the bathroom. Mistake #3. I should have waited. I would have MUCH rather wet my pants than what happened next.

Then, while using the bathroom, I reached into my pocket to grab something. Mistake #4 

I’m not sure what I was reaching for. Maybe it was my chapstick? Maybe I was just going to flush all of my excess pocket lint? I don’t know, but in any event, as I pulled the item out of my pocket, the pocket itself came out of the pants, turning inside out and releasing everything that was in the pocket straight into the toilet. Including my iPhone.

Now this is where my story won’t really match up with what I told my coworkers when I returned to the pharmacy. I said that I dropped my phone in the sink. That was a complete lie. Sorry. That iPhone fell in the toilet- and not just any toilet; a toilet full of urine. I know, that’s disgusting- thus the fact I lied. I was embarrassed. Plus I think I was still in a state of shock. Don’t worry, I washed my hands after, and used hand sanitizer liberally for the rest of the day.

The actual split-second when the iPhone fell into the toilet seemed to happen in slow motion. There was this moment where I saw it happening but couldn’t react quickly enough to catch it before the point of impact. So what did I do as soon as it landed in the pee-filled toilet? Without hesitation, I reached in and grabbed it. Didn’t even blink. It was just instinctive. (Again, I washed my hands after. And have now also showered since that time. Twice.)

Usually if I’m by myself when something bad happens, I don’t respond to it audibly. For example, when I bought a dresser for my apartment at Target last year and put it together, only for it to fall over and break 30 minutes later (I think I was missing a screw somewhere in the bottom) I didn’t actually say something out-loud. Same thing for when I was driving through Ridgetop last summer and realized I was getting pulled over by a cop for speeding; I didn’t say anything while sitting alone in my car.

When this iPhone fell in the toilet, it was a different story.

Nooo! Nooooooo!
Please. Please. Pleeeeaaaassssee. (When it wouldn’t come back on)
Oh my gosh. OH MY GOSH!
This can’t be happening.
[Expletive] 

At this point, I realized that someone else had walked in to the restroom. He probably thought I had tourettes. Or maybe was severely constipated. Either scenario would have been better than losing an iPhone. 

Anyway, now my iphone is in a coma, sitting in a bag of rice and I’m starting to have to face the possibility of life after iPhone. How does one move on? Is it too soon to start looking at other phones? In the mean time, is there a way to play “Words with Friends” just on your computer? These are the questions that keep me up at night.

Okay I’m going to check on iPhone again and see if he’s woken up yet.