So, my beloved phone apparently had an INEXPLICABLY DICKISH moment yesterday…and jettisoned all of my precious phone contacts into the goddamned ethers. Just in case you didn’t fully understand what I am saying to you:
ALL. OF. MY. FUCKING. PRECIOUS. PHONE. CONTACTS. DISAPPEARED. UP. GOD’S. BUTTHOLE.
Fortunately, my horror and trauma has now subsided to the point where I am able to stop shaking, wailing, raising my hands to the sky, and tearing at my hair long enough to come here and post the old standard, “I lost all the contacts on my phone. If you love me and believe with all your heart that I either already HAD your number and mailing address OR that I SHOULD have them…please send them along to me in an email or a Facebook message, accompanied by a high-def selfie of your undercarriage.”
Okay, so you don’t really gotta send me a selfie of your bits — though I am sure that I would enjoy it IMMENSELY! But you could send me a pic of your POOCHIE! And his or her name! I would LOVE THAT, TOO!
At any rate, hit an old hooker up with your digits, bitches. I need the ability to text you pics of my left tit ANY TIME OF THE DAY OR NIGHT.
Think I don’t?