My mom once came to visit me at Pitt and accidently left her BlackBerry at Fudd Ruckers. We realized it was gone within 30 minutes and went back to look for it. Of course it wasn’t there and management claimed no one turned it in. “That’s what you get for having a nice phone,” I told her. Most people aren’t going to turn that shiz in.

On the other hand, I don’t have much to worry about. Nobody is going to want my Kin. But if someone did find it, they would be able to tell a lot about me just by going through my cell phone pictures.

They would know that I sweat more than most human beings…

and that my family thinks my car is a toy and likes to park it on the porch.

One could assume that I’m one of those assholes that takes pictures of people when they fall asleep in the car…

and that I have a 7-year-old’s taste in alcohol.

Of course it would be really easy to identify that I’m not entirely normal…

and that I have an extreme chinchilla fetish.

Additionally, it would be apparent that I’m a baklava-making champion…

and that although it’s February, I’m still driving with the top down.

Of course there’s something to be said about my Erasure ring tone and the fact that I own a Kin at all. I once had a guy tell me not to bother texting him until I got a real person phone. I’m sure he’ll be the first person I tell if I do. Even if he thought the word “sensual” was spelled with a ‘t.’