Happy birthday Christy! Cell phones are trouble.

I'm not sure if today is my friend Christy's birthday, but I do know that she will be celebrating at the second annual birthday bash. This party last year (the first annual) was monumental for a couple reasons. First, almost immediately upon arriving I went to use the bathroom. Nothing unusual about that, but as I'd placed my brand new, picture-taking cell phone in the back pocket of my tight, low-fitting jeans, the phone (pre-toilet-use-by-me) went flying into the basin and sunk to the bottom like a sad, silver, expensive piece of excrement. My immediate response was to grab it and run it under the faucet (right, because more water was a good idea). The phone proceeded to beep through the night, and then die. I know this only because Christy told me. I left the phone there to annoy her as she tried to sleep long after J and I left. Why did I forget it? Well, that might be because halfway through the party I started getting pretty tired and decided it might be time me for one of my famous drinking naps, which are always preceded by the statement, "Don't worry, I'll be up in a few minutes." I got on the bed with Christy's dog, snuggled close, and passed out. Little did I know that due to the low-fitting jeans my ass was showing, but you know, just a little bit as our friend Brian explained to me MONTHS later. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THEN???" I had to ask him when I learned of this atrocity, to which he responded "It was cute!" to which I responded, "Doesn't matter should have told me!" and then proceeded to bring up the fact that he'd been a bad friend in the matter of keeping my body covered instead of checking it out and laughing at me every time we'd go out. Finally, right before he finished up grad school and moved away, Brian decided that I might need some real payback for his actions and after a few (hundreds of?) drinks, he showed me his ass as we were leaving a bar. "Now we're even," he said. Indeed, we were more than even. Without Christy's birthday, I never would have had a cell phone in the toilet story. Curiously, the one I bought as a replacement almost exactly one year ago died this week in some sort of sick anniversary celebration. I also never would have gotten to see some major booty while out on Franklin Street. Happy birthday, girl. Bottoms up.