Sometimes a cell phone is just a cell phone...

So I lost my cell phone this afternoon. I realized this as I was driving back over to Steph's place from mine after I went over there to give gus a bath and grab a few things for this weekend in Dallas. I went back to the last place I could remember having it--my apartment, of course--but after looking for the better part of an hour, I still couldn't find it. No big surprise as most small items, animals, and children that find their way into my apartment are never heard from again, lost in a tempestuous conglomeration of unopened junk mail, junk that needs to be mailed, closets overflowing with junk and clothes that should be junked, sprinkled with junk food.

Finally I resigned myself to the idea that I had lost it, and would be without a phone for the entire weekend, since it'll be monday before I can get up to austin to do anything about it (since I still have an austin number and want to keep it, I have to deal with Cingular up there instead of down here because they like to make my life a pain in the ass.)

I get back over to steph's, look her work number up in outlook (thank god i have a phone that syncs to outlook automatically) and called her to tell her about it, when I decided, as guys sometimes do when we're
alone, that it was time to scratch my balls. As I was sticking my hand down my shorts I felt a small rectangular object kind of on the side of my underwear. Bet you can't guess what that was, can you?

I really only have two explanations for this. One is that I meant to put it into my pocket and was preoccupied at the moment and accidentally put it inside the waistband of my jeans, and thus in my underwear instead of my pocket. The other is more freudian in that subconsciously I hate my cell phone--or rather, what it represents, which is being at the beck and call of the entire world 24/7--and want to drive myself crazy with it so I get rid of it all together before it sleeps with my mother. I tend to go with the latter. (Except for the
sleeping with my mother part. Sometimes a cell phone is just a cell phone.)