I lost my phone that is not technically my phone but who cares about minute details in times of crisis..right?

So there was a slight issue last night involving a birthday party in Zouk and the availability of alcohol. As the night progressed and the drinks started to flow, I became less wary and as a result, my phone was stolen. But then again, it wasn’t really my phone, but rather, one loaned to me by my housemate. So, technically, my housemate’s phone was stolen and now I’m in a rather deep pile of warm, moist shit. Cue internal dialogue the moment I realized the pink phone was not with me.

Melanie: What the fuck, Mel?
Melanie: I didn’t realize.
Melanie: You didn’t realize? What is wrong with you? The phone is gone and you didn’t realize?
Melanie: Hello. If you didn’t drink that last glass of whisky thus resulting in you being so obsessed with taking photos, the phone would not be missing.
Melanie: I don’t believe this. You’re pushing the blame on my drinking a glass of rather-weak whisky and taking ONE freaking picture instead of admitting that your concentration lapsed. Besides, I was standing by the freaking table the whole freaking time!
Melanie: If you didn’t drink and wasn’t so trigger-happy, I wouldn’t have lapsed in my concentration. So what are you going to do about her phone?
Melanie: I’ll buy her a new one.
Melanie: You have no money.
Melanie: Oh, just shut up. Chinese New Year is in two days' time.

Besides the fact that the phone was my housemate’s, I think I was more heartbroken from losing the sim card rather than the phone. In truth I tell you that if the phone had been my battered Nokia 6610i, it would’ve been a cause for celebration because I would finally be handed an excuse to upgrade to a more ‘advanced’ phone. If you know what I mean...

However, it is the loss of my sim card that is killing me right now.

Reason #1: As an extremely nostalgic person, there are tons of memories stored in my Malaysian sim. I have messages going all the way back to 2005: birthday greetings, farewell quips, random crap that made me laugh and many miscellaneous others. Now, like a thief in the night, all these memories that I’ve carefully hoarded like Smaug the dragon and brought with me throughout these years have disappeared with a POOF and a Hey, presto! God damn you, Bilbo Baggins!

Reason #2: My great archive of numbers and contacts which amounted in the several hundreds will now have to be rebuilt slowly and painfully. This, in my opinion, is the most inconvenient aspect of losing a phone. Now that my phone is gone, I have come to realize the evil that is the phonebook program. Since everything is stored in the phonebook, I no longer remember or memorize any numbers. The only numbers that I can recite off the top of my head are my parents’ numbers and my house telephone number – fucking pathetic, I know.

Anyway, all is not lost. Due to a small little ingenious piece of technology also known as Australian-sim-card, I have at least half of my numbers, and most importantly, the numbers that matter! So if I’m not calling you (that means you, Karen!), it means I’ve lost your number. This is especially true for the newer sets of numbers. So give me a ring or send me an sms and include your name within. I will not go down the path of setting up a ‘Mel’s phone got stolen and now this idiot of a marine biologist has lost all her numbers so PLEASE call her!’ group on Facebook.

At this point, all I can do is to fervently pray that the person who stole my phone will be inflicted with the worst of the worstest WORST kinds of syphilis. And when the syphilis is about to clear up, the person would be so sex-starved (of course la, syphilis ma who wants to have sex with him/her?!) that they will go on a sexual rampage and contract a cocktail of STDs.

Moral of the story is: Bad luck does not discriminate between English and Chinese Lunar years. Let's hope that the bad luck ends with the bull. I don't have anything left that I can afford to lose, damn it!