This morning I woke to a block of Whitney Houston videos on VH1 and the news of her sudden demise. I of course would have learned this last night if someone near and dear to me hadn’t also met a sudden demise. Okay not someone but more like something. I’m going to rewind and explain.
Thursday night Matt and I decided to watch a movie. The movie we chose for our viewing pleasure ended up being Contagion. Which didn’t really feel like a movie more like a public service announcement on hand washing. Friday night my throat felt scratchy and I was exhausted. By saturday it was full blown death plague, sore throat, chills, aches, and fever. Look I’m not saying the actual film Contagion gave me the flu. But I am saying the dirty ass case that housed Contagion gave me the flu.
Saturday was a disaster for me I ripped my brand new contact. Had to wait on the cable guy that decided to take an hour break mid instillation of a house phone that I got suckered into. Forgot the Thera-flu at Walmart and was forced to drink a crusty pack of expired thera-flu that has been living in my cupboard. Did I also mention that I’m apparently reliving puberty with a monstrous zit on my chin! Seriously this thing could have its own zip code. And then the incident happened.
My beloved iPhone slid off my lap into a piping hot cup of expired thera-flu. I can’t even describe the sound it made, it was the sound of death. The sound of thousands of pictures, all my contacts, apps, and happiness dying. I of course am one of those people that doesn’t ever back up their iPhone. Am I being over dramatic? No screw you how can I live without my Google, IMDB, and Instagram. Look I’m not holding a grudge against the child that lifted the blanket searching for the remote that all caused the death of my dear friend. I didn’t even yell or cry. But I am blaming Steven Soderbergh.
Right now all I want to do is dance with somebody that loves me