It practically had a brief case and a CB handle

My cell phone that I've had since before the invention of Reality TV finally quit yesterday.

Sigh.

I'm pretty sure that the Sprint clerk wanted to tell me that he was in 6th grade when they last sold that phone, but he didn't. Maybe they have a chapter in the training manual about not laughing at the old people who bring in the antiques.

I'll spare you the gory details, but I've been to four different establishments to get my old data into my new phone. Chun at the 38th Street PCS store (shout out to you, my friend - you ROCK!) got my data transferred and I almost cried. Or kissed him. Or peed my pants. Or all three. But that would have been horribly embarrassing for him.

And me.

Nothing in this world makes me feel old and stuck in my ways and unable to adapt to change as cellular technology. Or the current playlist on MTV.