I call it Magrane’s Law.
    Digital camera, TV, PC, laptop, iPod, GPS – you name it, I’ve killed it. It’s not that I despise the technology of the new millennium. As a matter of fact I love it; I would much rather open up a present on Christmas morning and find the newest 3G, high-speed wireless data and voice network technology HP Mini 110 than a $500 Coach purse.
   Last year, “Santa” got me exactly what I wanted. It was a brand new phone, the HTC Fuze. Within a month I chipped the corners, lost the stylus, and managed to cause it to completely freeze up on me. I hated that phone. I called it the brick, because it was so thick, heavy and useless. Still, I had to learn to deal with it until Christmas came around again.
    Then, Magrane’s Law struck again.
    No one plans on flushing their phone down a toilet; it just happens. In my case, it was entirely my phone’s fault. See, my friend and I were about to go out for the night, and following my mother’s age-old advice I went to the bathroom before we left the house. This is when the Brick jumped out of my pocket and into the porcelain throne…just as I flushed it.
   I didn’t even notice my missing phone at first. I thought the big “KERPLUNK” I heard was a problem with the toilet. But then I went into my pocket to check my phone and it wasn’t there. That’s when I knew the horrible, crappy truth.
   When I went back into the bathroom there was no cell phone to be seen, but there was a blinking blue light coming from within the plumbing.
   So there I was, at my best friend’s house with my phone lost in the abyss of her toilet, and I asked myself, “How do you tell someone you flushed your phone down their toilet?”
   I chose the confused act…
   “Amy, can you come upstairs? Well, here’s the thing. I’m pretty sure my cell phone is stuck in your potty.”
   “Well stick your hand in there and get it out!”
  “But your hand’s smaller…”
   And yes, she stuck her hand in the toilet to retrieve my phone. Unfortunately, her hand wasn’t small enough. So we tried flushing, plunging, and sucking it out with a vacuum. Nothing. RIP Brick. RIP John.
   They say you don’t know who your true friends are until they are tested. I say you don’t know who your true friends are until they have stuck their hands into the filthy plumbing of a toilet to try to retrieve your despised – probably ruined – phone.
   So what’s for Christmas this year? My waterlogged Brick in a plastic bag with the remains of what seems to be corn.
Photo Credit: http://studentlife.unlv.edu/technology/images/technology.jpg