BoofuckinHoo

I have a problem with cell phones. I believe that cell phones have a problem with me.  I ask for little from cell phones -- a phone call here or there, a text message even.  For some fucking reason, cell phones ask for my soul... worse than that... my money.  These little mother fuckers  spontaneously fry, jump into toilets, or straight up never turn on when I need them the most. Only once has the bastard run away, never to be found.
My current cell phone is no exception.
I'm sure by now you must be thinking, "Gee, Adam. Why don't you purchase another cell phone to ease your worried little self." And what a genuine point you'd be making, had you been thinking that.

At first Adam tried to use an old phone of his Dad's.  He went to switch the phone's online and, come to find out, he needs a receipt for the phone.  What the fuck?  Who would keep the receipt for a six year old cell phone that they don't use anymore?  And if that's you, I'm sorry, but seriously?

This was a week ago. Until then my phone was only acting like a bastard occasionally by running out of power quickly or sending people texts without my permission.  Three days ago, my current little herpe of a cell phone had decided that it didn't want to charge any more. Now it acts like a land line, only working when its plugged in.  Even when it's plugged, it turns on and off at its leisure.

So, until Adam is able to work out a deal with his cell phone providers, who deny his eligibility for a new phone, Adam will be difficult to get a hold of.  He'd be sorry but it's not his fault and it's just as inconvenient for him as it is for the rest of the crowd.

Chris... uh.... IPod... I haven't seen it, but you know you're welcome to break into my house whenever. If you don't work tomorrow or have plans, I think I'm gonna barbecue and drink beer at my house. Come. It'll probably be me and Garret with a bunch of bottle rockets.