I'm kind of a "if it ain't broke don't fix it" girl. Which is why, despite John's ridicule and the fact that it technically IS broken, I still use the first cell phone I ever got after we were married. Sure, it's older than most first graders, the camera no longer works, no headset on earth fits it, and it's dented in several places from my throwing it across the room while playing Psychonauts (love that game), but darn it all, I just figured out how the menu works.
Anyway, I mention all this because today I got a harsh reminder of just how old my phone is:
And not just ANY Wreck, but one that's ugly as vomit-streaked sin and suffering from a severe identity crisis to boot. Is it a going-away cake? A birthday cake? Both? "Happy Birthday, Billy. Now Daddy and I gotta go! Bye!"
I could also mention the punctuation, spacing, and CCC issues, but really I just can't get over this phone-clone thing. In fact, I think I need to photograph my phone just to show you I'm not making this up. Check it out: