Diary entry of a girl with a poopy phone

Photo by Jamie Street

I’ve had a pretty tragic week. And tragic in the sense that the worst possible thing happened to me (ps if you haven’t realised by now, you kind of have to read everything I say with a drop of sarcasm) BUT, I think everyone would feel me on some level here when I say what happened:

I DROPPED MY PHONE IN THE TOILET.

Yep. I’m just gonna let that sink in for a while.

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Your phone. The thing you shove against your boobs whilst exercising, put in your mouth when there’s no where else to put it, you practically sleep with your phone, on it 24/7, basically your life, has plopped in the toilet. This is the terrible tragedy that happened to me this week.

Ironically, I dropped it AFTER I had a rager night out and the unfortunate incident occurred the morning after, when I was sober and not in the slightest hungover. #oops

So many times I have heard of this absolute tragedy, and have actually often wondered what I would do if it ever (god forbid) happened to me. Would I just stick my naked hand in nilly willy and grab it out? Would I get a glove first? Use some toilet paper to fish it out? It was a constant conundrum that I pondered, but always silently prayed it would never play out. However, my limits were tested that fateful Wednesday morning.

Let me give you a rundown of the situation: *cue idyllic music*

I was standing in the bathroom, with my phone wedged under my arm. For some reason, I thought it was a good idea to flap my arms about like a chicken, forgetting that my phone was under my arm. It almost happened in slow motion as I watched my phone plummet from the safe cocoon of my armpit vagina and plop into the toilet. LUCKILY IT WAS PRE PEE, because I literally entered fight or flight mode as without a second thought, plunged my hand into the toilet to rescue my poor phone. And considering I’m Asian and all, you’d think the first response would be to put it in a bowl of rice to get the moisture out. However, I think Dad wanted to be a hipster because he starts swearing by some ‘drying agent’ so we popped the phone in there and I had to trot off to work and uni that day without a phone.

I can’t even describe how naked I felt. It wasn’t just the fact I could hide behind my phone and pretend to text all my friends, but even without the mere physical presence of it I felt so strange. I actually had to look up and absorb the world. On the bus, I couldn’t listen to my awesome 90’s music but instead had to look out the window and ponder about life. I felt so disconnected, like everyone was buzzing on meta level and I was just excluded from the hub bub and to be honest, I actually didn’t mind. It was peaceful not checking my phone every 30 seconds.

In case you were all wondering, the phone is actually ok, Papa’s ‘drying agent’ did the trick and phone is 100% ok, and not water damaged (touch wood). I did have to do a lot of explaining to people though about the dropped phone, to which the response from literally everyone was ‘hahahah classic Moya’. I’m not sure whether to be offended that they think me dropping my phone in the toilet is such a common occurrence that it constitutes ‘classic’, or it is just a typical noob Moya move. Regardless, the absolute germaphobe in me was not happy, so I proceeded to absolutely scrub the bejeesus out of my phone with hand sanitizer, warm water, and any sort of disinfectant I could find. My phone ended up smelling cleaner than Charlie Sheen’s toilet after his cleaner has disinfected his house (which I’d imagine to be pretty grotty) but I was still pretty unsatisfied. To this day (it’s been 3 days since ‘The Incident’), I still get iffy about cradling my phone like I used to.

The most interesting thing about this is, I still take my phone into the toilet. And before you lecture me about not learning from my mistakes, do you know how hard it is to poop without the sneaky Insta stalk? Those 2 activities are basically synonymous in my head.

So yeah, I think it’s safe to say I’ve had a shit one.

-Moy

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