he’s a keeper, I’m a mess.

There’s certain things that you might gloss over in the telling of a tale. For example, at the time of my engagement party, I had a zit on my chin that looked like leprosy. I was embarrassed to tell the guests that the wound was a result of incessant squeezing and poking, combined with a massive overdose of 10% benzoyl peroxide cream, so I made up this lie that I’d fallen on my face while skiing. Later on, of course, the truth came out, and although nobody stopped talking to me as a result, I think its safe to say that the world’s opinion of me was knocked down a few points.

I hope you won’t judge me the same way when I tell you that I didn’t really “accidentally” drop my phone on Labor day. I threw the phone. In a fit of rage. And it broke into seven pieces.

I’m redheaded and Irish, I reserve the right to have tantrums.

Me being me, (read: lazy in a way that even I find appalling) the loss of any and all communication with the outside world was not incentive enough to spur me to action. I spent one Tuesday sick in bed, and when the internet went out I just laid there and felt sorry for myself. Poor me. Can’t even send an email now. Sniffle.

I had this notion that I would buy out my contract with Sprint and buy a Treo or a Blackberry – something important and businesslike, since I am so very important and businesslike – but that would mean pulling together like five hundred dollars. And since my credit card expired on September 1, it would have to be 100% cash. I don’t have $500 of cash. So I did nothing.

three weeks went by like this, and I started to feel pretty sheepish about the whole thing. I’m a 28 year old woman who throws things like a five year old, then doesn’t even clean up her own mess. I’m a complete waste. A waste who can’t make a phone call.

Last Thursday, I came home to find that Katsumi had gone on Ebay and gotten me a new phone. It’s better than my old one, by far. Great reception, great camera, slim and fantastic. And I thought to myself: this right here is what marriage is all about. Having someone around to do shit for you that you just can’t seem to do for yourself, even when you’ve spent three weeks being a total lazy douche who scams everybody else’s mobile minutes.

What a great hallmark card that would make.

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