I lost my iPhone on New Year’s Eve. Apologies if I seemed out of sorts at UCB NYE. I was out of sorts.

Apparently, iPhones have trackers that let you figure out where your phone is. But what they will not do, is perhaps more important.

For future reference, your iPhone tracker will not:

• Identify where your phone is down to the apartment number or even floor or even building number. So I just put a mean note on all the mailboxes in the building I THINK it’s in.

• Make your iPhone grow wings so it fly home to you.

• Turn your phone into a fist so it can repeatedly punch the face of the person who has your phone in their possession and whom is ignoring the (very gently worded for now, but after 8 p.m., fuck-around nice time is over) messages you’ve sent them.

• Make all the pictures of your baby nephew that are stored on your phone (in my case, there are approx a million) cry at the same time, at an volume that increases each minute and never ever stops until it’s returned. A million baby cries that never stop. Take that.

• Summon the ghost of Steve Jobs to mercilessly haunt this bad person—who lives in Murray Hill on 31st and 3rd so let’s face it, was ALREADY an irredeemable douchebag—and make him or her return it.

• Engineer a kidnapping (child or pet) so this a-hole can experience the same hollow dread that comes when you’ve lost something important. I know a child or pet is not a THING and cannot be compared to an iPhone, but someone who would take something that’s not theirs is horrible to begin with, and therefore deserves a bigger scare in return. And the kidnapping wouldn’t be scary for the kidnapped. The child or pet would be eating ice cream and riding roller coasters … juuust long enough so that the iPhone stealer can be worried out of his or her mind. The child or pet will be returned happy and well-fed … once the iPhone is.

Ok, yes. I lost my iPhone and it’s my own stupid, drunk fault. Chrissie, you’re dumb and stop being such a disaster of a human being in 2012. Fiiine, ok, I can deal with that.

The icing on this bummer cake, however, is probably the more interesting portion of the “Boo Hoo I Lost My Phone Show” show. I’m completely flabbergasted someone found my phone and isn’t returning it. It probably says that I’m utterly delusional and naive, but there you go.

Anne Frank said it best when she was all, “I think there are more rad people than soul-crushing dicks in the world.” I guess whoever refuses to return my phone just so happens to be a dick. But hold up. It’s in Murray Hill not, like, a crackhouse or something. I went there today. It’s nice.

Hey, world? Anne Frank and I trusted you (hmm, second mistake and a note to self: let this be the year you stop modeling yourself after Anne Frank. You know why). Anyway, I realize this isn’t personal, but yeah I’ll say it, I’m offended on behalf of normal fucking people. Keeping something that’s not mine would just never, ever cross my mind. I haven’t even bought a new phone yet because I secretly think this person is going to redeem him or herself.

It’s shittier knowing where it is because without the tracker, I’d be like “oh, it disappeared into the ether/someone stepped on it/it’s in a puddle/it fell in the sewer/it’s off fighting crime. But no. I know. And it changes things for me. It makes me more outraged. And again, it’s a thing. It really has nothing to do with the phone at all at this point. Is my faith in humanity bruised? A little, maybe. I guess I never realized how strongly I believe in the goodness of the general population. If something had to fuck you in the ass, I guess it might as well be a silver lining.

I’ll live (obviously). I’ll take the hit and get a new fucking phone and everything will go back to normal. And 2011 was awesome and 2012 will still be great and sometimes things happen that are annoying and other times life is rainbows. This is nothing on the cosmic scale of bad crap that can happen to you so I feel pathetic even writing this.

But still.

We’re still taking other people’s stuff? This is a thing that’s still happening? The baby is disappointed.

Lastly … New York, you will never break me.