I once dropped my phone out of my back pocket as it was flushing as I was pulling my pants back up. It was our first week in our brand new house after getting married, my mother and mother-in-law were over helping to paint over the hideousness that was left by the previous owner we still refer to as Captain Half-Ass, and my shiny new husband had to take a break from whatever he was working on to unscrew the toilet from the floor and turn it upside down in the bathtub so he could fish my phone out.
We ended up having to get me a new phone. Obviously.
Also? I was high on Valium at the time. Comes with the territory after getting a major breast reduction. And while I blame the Valium for my serious lack of judgement in placing my cell phone in my back pocket before going to pee, The Husband likes to argue I'm just an idiot and Valium had nothing to do with it because Valium cannot explain away every dropped phone, broken screen, and I Left it in My Back Pocket AGAIN incident between then and now. I think he's being way too factual.
So when I finally got my pretty iPhone 4S after getting tired of pretending to not want to be one of the mindless masses of Apple lovers, The Husband naturally insisted on every warranty and protection option possible. This baby wasn't cheap and I happen to have a penchant for forgetting I've got a phone sitting on top of my purse because I just sent a tweet when standing up to get out of the Yukon and hoping like hell he doesn't notice me bending down to pick up the phone that landed on the pavement.
We tried the Otterbox Commuter, which was my tried and true for my past loves -- blackberry and Droid -- but after three cases cracked in the exact same spot, The Husband made the executive decision to try something else. He's in law enforcement and I'm a former newsroom reporter, so we usually research like hell before narrowing our pool and then comparing reviews and price-checking various online sources for the best deal. But since I had noticed the third Otterbox had a cracked corner when I tried putting it in my bra and scratching my boob while we were out shopping and there was no way in hell The Husband was going to trust me with an unprotected iPhone. So we hightailed it to Best Buy before heading home.
All the pretty plastic cases were easily dismissed. Anything that didn't require following directions to put on the iPhone and another set to remove the case from the iPhone also was dismissed. That pretty much left us with the Lifeproof. It's water, shock, snow, and dirt proof, which in Swahili, directly translates into PaulineProof, so The Huband didn't even blink when it was time to pony up the $79.99.
I got the pink case.
And after The Husband filled a pot with water and weighed the empty case down for an hour and a half to test it before installing it on the iPhone and I tested it out by sending a text message from the shower just because I could, I asked Buttercup's swim teacher to get a shot of my little mermaid in the pool.
I can't blame the Valium, but if I drop my phone in the toilet again, at least I know the only part The Husband will be bitching about is the having to fish it out part. And that, people, is totally worth eighty bucks.