Monday, February 20, 2012

Phone Alone

Happy Monday, and a special welcome to my hundreds of new readers from Pakistan. You puzzle/complete me.

It was a relatively eventful weekend here. JB left Friday afternoon for Rome, unwisely leaving me home unsupervised. By remarkable coincidence, it was also the weekend of the Bearracuda Atlanta party. I started flashing back to last year around this time. I have to admit, having a flashback is much easier now that I keep a blog.

Friday night I did what I usually do when JB is out of town: After a bit of light manscaping, I took a shower then tried on shirts for half an hour. After checking out my final choice in the mirror, I messaged StevieB for a second opinion. I then walked down the block to meet my buddy Gilbert at our local pub, Blake's On The Park.

I like Blake's, but on weekends it tends to get packed and lately it's been attracting the wrong kind of crowd. And by that, I mean bachelorette parties. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind straight women in my gay bars. My best hag is a straight woman. I just think that if it were me who was leaving the security of my humdrum suburban enclave for a down-town romp on the wild side with my BFFs, I'd try to not offend the locals by doing shots to the point of regressing to my fourteen-year-old personality. And I'd ditch the penis-shaped lollypops and squirt guns.

So Gilbert and I decided to try a different scene and hopped into a waiting taxi. The next place was much more fun, until I realized my iPhone wasn't in my pocket.

I used to make a point of leaving my phone at home when hitting the bars. But something about the iPhone begs to party. How did I manage to enjoy myself before being able to consult my LoseIt app for an update on how many light beers left in my calorie quota? And how did I ever endure the hotter-than-thou attitude of my evil arch-frienemy without the instant satisfaction that only a search for his mugshot in the Dekalb County Sheriff's database can provide?

In addition, I find people who are standing around staring at their phones tend to get creeped out by people who have nothing better to stare at than the people staring at their phones. And I don't want to be one of those creepy people.

So you can imagine my distress upon realizing my phone was missing. I immediately borrowed Gil's iPhone to track down mine, but it couldn't be located. That told me whoever was now in possession of my phone had the wherewithal to make sure it stayed lost. That made me sad.

But a trip to the Apple Store Saturday lifted my spirits. It always does. And by the afternoon, all was back to normal. But I did leave my phone at home when I went to Bearracuda Saturday night. I spent the evening staring at all the bears while they, in turn, stared into their phones.


  1. Maybe you left you phone in that third change of clothes?

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