you know that clubby techno-like song that repeats over and over again, 'where's your head at?'

that's what i've been wondering lately about my own tete.

now some of you may continually question where my head is, but i don't think you understand the magnitude of my flighty and forgetfulness lately. it has never, in my life, been this bad and it's starting to get frustrating.

the culminating event was on sunday. i was tired GOING INTO the day and it was a full one. i went to church and got to share my faith with a muslim student that we met last year, then it was off to my final fresher fair.

after freshers' fair. i decided to stay in the city since evening service for church would be in another hour and a half. kc, stephanie, and i popped in westworld, grabbed some drinks from 'bucks' to go, and then headed to the bombed-out church to relax on some benches until we had to head to church. the landskeeper came around close to 6 and said that he was locking up, so we headed to a nearby pub to kill about 15 more minutes.

i'm sitting there enjoying my orange and passion fruit J2O when i have this funny feeling that i've forgotten something. i begin to rummage through my bag and realize that my mobile is MIA. i check my pockets--nowhere to be found.

I deduce that my phone is either at westworld, starbucks, or on that bench in the courtyard. westworld and bucks were closing up, so there wouldn't really be anything i could do, so i decide to leg it down to the bombed-out church to investigate, and if not there, to call the other two places in the morning.

once outside of the locked up gates of the church, i can visibly see my mobile from hardman street, just sitting on the bench (don't ask me how someone can just get up and walk away from their phone and not notice). hardman street is a pretty busy place and i decide that i'm either going to be arrested or stared at if i climb the 10-12 iron clad gates from that side, so i go the alley on the other side that's parallel to hardman street.

i tried to shimmy over the gates with my bag over one shoulder and in my cloth covered poms, but had some issues at the top. i saw a lady starting to park her minivan and so i decided that if i could get her to hold my bag, then i might have a better chance of recovering moby.

i'm pretty sure i really freaked her out. i stared at her after i climbed down and then tried to give her the "friendly and innocent" looking smile. she gave me the "i don't trust you--are you going to hurt me?" smile back. so i approached her. she opened her car door just slightly and i explained my plight and asked if she'd hold my bag while i rescued my phone, to which she happily agreed.

i didn't really think that by giving her my bag, as she's standing on the other side of 12 foot gate, i may recover my phone, but lose my credit and debit cards, diary, and overall livelihood.

she was middle-aged woman driving a minivan though--surely a reliable source.

i retrieved my phone and proceeded to gather my bag, thank minivan lady, and head to church ranting and raving about what an irresponsible moron that i am.

because of all of the liquids (starbucks and J20) that we've consumed, the three girls head to the toilets at christ church before the evening service commences.

as i join the congregation, we sing a song and some notices are given and then i hear my friend maurice say, "apparently one of the ladies was texting in the toilets because a mobile phone was found in there. so if this is your phone, come pick it up after the service."

i thought, 'surely no,' but after maneuvering around tall ed's head--i saw that it was, in fact, my phone.

::cue the techno/glow-stick dancing::

where's my head at? where's my head at?

(p.s. please don't answer that question. it was rhetorical.)