WE WERE TALKING ABOUT GIRL STUFF and I can't even call her back.

So I was having one of the best Friday nights in a while tonight.

I have a list of people who've tried to call me over the last few weeks. Becky tried once, Dave's sister tried twice, and my cousin Kristen tried 35 times.

She didn't leave any voicemails, so I figured she wasn't dying or anything. I also knew that she's one of the people I will be on the phone with for like, an hour.

Or two and a half. It was awesome. We laughed, then we laughed til we cried, then we told stories, and all that stuff that makes boys get bored on the phone. I heard stories about my cousin, who's due any minute now (yeah, like a baby), and my grandpa's fiance's ... uh, well, her, and ha, you know, that time she threw peaches at that neighbor kid, ha. You remember. Good times.

Then, as we were approaching the third hour, my landline phone rang.*

Since her phone had died somewhere around hour No. 1, she'd called me from her boyfriend's phone. "I'll call you back," I said. Five minutes later, I pick up my cell phone, and WHAT IS THIS?! I screamed. I really did. And no one's home, which makes it even weirder. And I'm telling the world right now, which is totally odd.

But, back to the "WHAT IS THIS" moment. It says "unknown number." As in "Erin can't call back because her cell phone thinks it's all cool and stuff, blocking 'unknown numbers.'"

So, my friends, this is what it feels like to live in the 17th century. Only I get to blog about it. Not write on scrolls. Although they didn't even have phones. And chances are, as a woman, I wouldn't know how to write anyhow. But that's just details.

You know that running joke in "Play it Again, Sam," that Woody Allen movie, where the guy keeps calling his office to tell them where he can be reached ("For the next half hour, I'll be at (number). Then, you can reach me at (number).")? It's funny, but it couldn't even happen now because of cell phones.

Only it is happening now. AND IT'S NOT FUNNY.

Sigh. So I left a message on her dead cell phone, telling her I wasn't blowing her off. But I'm a 20something -- impatient -- with a major case of WE WERE IN THE MIDDLE OF A STORY, and now the moment is gone. How frustrating, because I know that if my cell phone weren't technologically idiotic, I could be entering hour three of our conversation. I don't know the difference between "call me later" and "I can call you whenever and where ever, because of this technology stuff."

Man. Technology-schmeckmology. Zach Morris would never have had this problem with his sweet phone.

(*landline: noun, means the phone that's attached by wires to the wall; not a cell phone. See also 20th century, long-distance calling and "E.T.")