beetrock

Verizon’s failure to understand my needs has resulted into an apparent cell phone blood bath. Driven to the edge by the disconnect, my cell phones, one by one, have resigned in the most atrocious of ways. Life has by now almost left my tank-like Nokia phone which I purchased on ebay to replace its vitamin-water-drowned predecessor. This afternoon at the Hunter library the Nokia took a deep and heart stopping dive from my hand, to the copying machine, to the floor. It laid there, parts sprawled unconsciously, while the other unfortunate user of the copy room listened to my prolonged screams of rage. The coarse fates that have befallen both of my Verizon phones are clearly not coincidental. There is obviously an outside influence behind this assisted cell phone suicide.