Last Tuesday, my life changed forever. No, not because HGTV decided to buy my show idea Real Estate Skanks: Fargo or because every email program in the world finally wised up and eliminated that horrible “Reply All” feature.

(But honestly, when the baseball coach sends an email about practice, what kind of dimwit replies to all 20 people on the mailing list with, “Trenton will be there!” every damn time? It takes all I have to not reply to her with, “Thanks for the warning! Whiskeying up my flask, loser!”)

Unfortunately, the real reason my life changed was far more tragic: my iPhone died. (Moment of silence, please.) (Oh, come on, stop chewing. I can totally hear you.)

But yes, el phono es now el morto. And I can’t even tell you how devastated I am. In fact, I’d be keening and wearing Italian Widow Black right now if it weren’t for all of the super cute coral clothes they have out this Spring. Seriously, I went to J. Crew yesterday and now I look like the Great Barrier Reef with feet. Every time I walk by the kids’ fish tank, I get nervous that one of them is going to jump out and colonize me.

Anyway, before you start organizing a boycott of Apple in my honor, I must very painfully admit that my iPhone’s death was—-my fault. But rest assured, it wasn’t due to something as declassé as manslaughter or a crime of passion. Lord knows I’d never do anything to hurt my little iPhoney who got me through many a swim lesson by allowing me to play Words with Friends rather than listen to the other moms talk about their baby’s super fascinating sleep schedule. Blech.

No, my iPhone’s untimely demise was more of a Negligent Homicide, if you will. Or in arcane legal terms, “A Spectacular Jackass Maneuver That Wendi’s Husband Will Now Hold Over Her Head Until They Both Die of Old Age and/or Mutual Arsenic Poisoning.”

Here’s how The SmartPhone Tragedy of 2012 went down:


6:30 a.m. Wendi wakes up refreshed and gorgeous as usual.

My new conditioner is really working wonders.

6:45 a.m. After a few minutes of meditation and Norwegian Tai Chi, Wendi slips on a kicky little number to really flaunt her curves.

Wendi’s husband likes to call this rather vampy outfit her “Eastern European File Clerk with a Lady Stache” look.

7:00 a.m. Tearing herself away from a lively family breakfast conversation about whether or not Spongebob Squarepants has a penis, Wendi retires to her luxurious private lounge with an armful of silk and chiffon to pamper herself.

Notice how, exactly?

7:01 a.m. Because Wendi is a very high-powered woman, she places her precious iPhone in her pocket lest she miss even a single Paula Abdul tweet with an inspirational quote from a great French thinker. (@PaulaAbdul “We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others that in the end we become disguised to ourselves.” ~François Duc deLa Rochefoucauld!!!!!)

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