My phone crashed. My Treo 700p just stopped working. It was a complete irreparable system meltdown that wiped away all of my contacts and sent them off to the digital graveyard. And the annoying part is that it wasn’t even my fault. I didn’t drop it or get it wet, the piece of shit phone with its inferior software package just died.

Of course it’s not to say that I haven’t had my share of phone losses. In the past, I’ve dropped my phone in a toilet, lost it skiing, had it thrown out of a 30 story window, left it in a car, swam with it in my pocket, had it run over by a bus, left it in restaurants too many times to remember, and even got dropped from cell phone insurance for claiming too many lost phones.

Which is why one would think that I would regularly back up my contacts. But of course, I don’t. Because somewhere in my weird, twisted, demented head, I like the idea of starting over. I like knowing that the hundreds of people whose numbers I lost were nothing more than digital waste. And that the only people I really need to speak with will either call me or I have their number memorized.

Sure it’s a little illogical but I’m sure there are a lot of girls out there who are happy that I no longer have their number.

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