Day 46: I Have Never Cracked My Phone Screen into a Spiderweb-Looking Mess

I have never cracked my cellphone screen, which is surprising, because all of my phones have been garbage and I treat them like shit!

• In high school, I lost my dumb phone on the bus.
• I bought a new (but identical) phone, and immediately jumped into the pool with it, probably trying to impress a girl during a drunken pool party while my parents were out of town.
• But my old phone was found by the bus driver, and shipped back to me, so I started using that one again.
• That phone stopped working because the buttons jammed up after punching them too hard trying to text a free service that would update you with the Phillies score.
• My final flip phone met a grisly demise. In sophomore year of college, I got really drunk at an open-bar formal, a formal attended also by my recently-ex-girlfriend. I must’ve received a flippant text from her or something, because when I read the text I got so angry I flipped the phone the other way on purpose, and threw the pieces into the street. Loyal friends collected the pieces, and I woke up with a hangover, piss all over my sheets, and a pile of plastic phone bits.
• I got my first somewhat-smart phone, which had a touch screen (a Razr! Remember those??). Eventually that touch screen stopped working because of all the greasy food I probably got all over it—that retirement home food was pretty damn great, so, worth it!
• The next one stopped working when I took it on the Great White roller coaster in Wildwood instead of placing it in the holding cubby. The G forces made it go wonky, and the phone slowed down to the point of stopping.
• Which brings us up to the current phone, which... hoo boy. On April 1st, I was walking across the street, when a group of hooligans stole the phone right out of my hand while riding past on their bikes. What ensued was a standoff between ol’ Joey and ten teenagers, with eventually the 26th police district getting into the mix. After three hours at the police station and my Narragansett buzz all gone, I returned to the bar with my phone still stolen, until a good samaritan found the phone ditched in the streets of Fishtown, saw a text from "Pam K***," and saw he and she had a mutual friend on Facebook in my cousin. I picked up my phone from my cousin the next day. It’s a small-ass world, folks.

And now that I have that shitty phone back, I went ahead and dropped it while running across Walnut St. near Woody’s, and after all the lost and stolen phones, the crab-bisque-smeared touch screens and deaths by roller coaster and pool, I finally found a new way to torture my cellular device.

At least I can still see the cute picture of Pam and a Christmas tree in the background.

Love,
Joey