{grotesque}

When the phone, now affectionetly known as Lloyd, was purchased it was decided upon that it would be in everyones best interest to have a screen protector. I'll let you in on a little secret: I'm pretty clumsy and I tend to break things. As you can understand it was greatly needed.

 While the decision making of the purchase of Lloyd was being made I had to look at CD's and washerdryer combos as I was a brand new awkward fish out of water and couldn't think straight nor make any sort of rational decision (it was a hard few weeks there. sorry.). Especially in an electronics store. Thankfully my bff&bsff were present to make such large life altering decisions.

 I don't know if there were other options or not but those two smarties picked out the screen protector with a lifetime guarantee. Who even knew those things existed? Seriously, those two gal pals of mine are just so smart.  

This was roughly 2 months and 3 days ago. Tonight that lifetime waranty came in mighty handy. You see, a few days ago something nasty got under on of the little edges and was making the whole thing practically fall off. I figured I would have to order one on line and wait 6-10000 weeks for a new one to arrive. However, just this fine evening Katie and I were at the mall when we stumbled upon a store run solely by the lifetime guarantee screen protecting people. I walked myself right on in and asked the girl running the place what I had to do to get a new one. She pulled out a slip of paper and with the never changing blank stare said "Put your name here, sign here, take the old cover off and place it here." I kindly did as she directed. Wrote my name, gave her my autograph (she should have paid me for that) and then pulled the lifetime guarantee screen protector off. It was only after i stuck it to the paper that the puking started.

Umm, eww. My face touches that. And so do my fingers. Mostly my fingers. You know, surfing the web, down loading apps, texting you. All that jazz. And sometimes I even make phone calls. Which kind of grosses me out the most. My face. That nasty thing. And that was only 2 months and 3 days worth of nast. It was on my face.

Which leads me to my next point, although I'm having a hard time getting over the roughly 64 days of filth.

I was mowing the lawn this morning like a good daughter would do. I started breaking out in what I thought was hives or something like unto it on my poor little arms. I texted my mother (from Lloyd, where I was also listening to Pandora while still mowing the lawn (now that is multi-tasking) gross. think of the germs i got then. double gross.) telling her I had the looks of hives. When she got home from work tonight she looked at my face and said "you have broken out in something!"

Oh, no mom. Those would just be zits.

But thanks for playing.

Probably zits from Lloyd who appears to have been infested with germs.

I'm just glad to have gotten rid of his yucky lifetime guarantee screen protector before I contracted some sort of strange disease.

No, but really, how old must one be before one stops getting so many 15 year old boy type acne?