Yeah. No. This isn't a joke. I'm not going in to too many details here, but a dog did eat my cell phone. And I'm not all being dramatic. I mean, I couldn't read the screen because a dog ate my cell phone. Blah blah blah, two days later I get a new one. TWO DAYS LATER. TWO DAYS! People. Do you get this? TWO DAYS I HAD TO BE WITHOUT A WORKING CELL PHONE.

I know this is bad. It's bad to be so dependent on something like this. But it's your contact to everyone. And it's also my contact book.

See, I'm good at having people's phone numbers. I mean, when I was ten I asked for an address and phone number book for Christmas. And when I didn't get one that winter I used the Christmas money that I was given and marched over to Office Max to pick out my own address and phone number book. (I filled it in with my grandma's and aunt's addresses seeing that I was ten and, really, didn't have too many addresses and phone numbers to keep). But that's not the point. The point was I'm good at knowing information about people. It's just my thing.

But when you didn't remember to save all of my phone numbers to your SIM card(I'm going to sound old for a second... come one technology! You should know my phone numbers anyway... even if I don't save them to some magical SIM card!) so now I am getting text messages from random numbers that aren't random because they are people I know, but do not remember their phone numbers.

A conversation that involves this situation goes like this:

"Hey, what u up to tonight?"

Me reading the text... uhhhh... shoot... how do I go about this without them knowing...

"I dunno... what are you up to?"

"I think we r going out tonight... want to meet us?"

Me reading the text... well, now I have gone to far... I should have just told them that I got a new phone and didn't take the time to save their very important phone number in to my phone... I don't want to offend them...shit..."

"Sure... where...?"

And then they tell me where and the time and I sit there wondering who I am about to go hang out with. No, I'm serious. I have no clue. Sure, everyone has a 773 area code so I can't decipher from that. The bar they wanted to meet at was in a sort of either or part of the neighborhood. Meaning... either gay or straight.

I played with the idea. Do I go and meet this person to see who it is. What if it's just a random person you had a number from because you were drunk and said: "Hey, it would be cool to get each other's numbers to chill some other time!" Even though you both didn't really mean it. But why would they text now if they didn't mean it?

So, I got dressed and went.

The whole way there I was thinking about how this was like a blind date, but not really because I apparently knew this person and then I get this knot in my stomach because I was actually nervous and then I started to think about all the times I have been nervous in my life meeting up someone one and how all those were usually connected with the fear of who they could turn out to be and then I got in to the bar and there was my co-worker friend... someone I adore. Someone I didn't even realize I was missing their number.

I had a drink and chatted and added her number back in my phone... on the SIM.

As I walked home I was still nervous. There was no real reason to be. I had met the person, my friend, I had gotten her phone number... and then the next time this happens I'll just get balls and say something like "I am so sorry... I lost my phone numbers and don't know who this is..." and they will tell me and I won't have to blind date it to see who's number it was.

But then I realized it had nothing to do with the numbers... it had to do with the technology. Turning in to my apartment lobby with a cellphone it one pocket and my ipod in the other I ran to my laptop and started writing this blog realizing that ten years ago I would have been listening to my CDs and journaling in a notebook and how in ten more years this knot in my stomach won't exist because it would be so normal to be so connected to things that aren't alive, but make you feel alive. And that's the scary thing. The things that make you feel alive aren't even alive.

Stupid dog.