The epically boring adventure about how we ended up with the same lame cell phones

When last I left you, we still had hope. Ah...hope. Satan's sock-puppet. The mouth is moving but the words seem a bit off And then you realize that it's just a hand in a sock. And that's just creepy. And a bit gross.

But...for the time being...I had a phone. Like the cool kids. And Sydney had...nothing. Her hope was still wandering around in the desert. But she was happy for me. "Yeah...I'm really happy for you, Mom," she said through gritted teeth as she stabbed pins into the tiny likeness of me clutched in her hand. They're available on e-bay. Most of my 4th graders have at least one.

Desperate (and knowing that she was making crepes), we headed over to our friend, Mrs. Colored Crayon's house. "Cee-Cee! We need help!" So while we snarfed down her delicious crepes stuffed with raspberries, strawberries, and bananas topped with Nutella, home-made chocolate sea-salt caramel sauce and crushed peanut-butter, Cee-Cee tried breaking into Sydney's stubborn phone. She then put in a call to the Pomegranate people and, prying us away from our plates, was soon whisking us away for a drive to the city.

Cee-Cee forced us to pull over and look at an invisible eagle's nest on the way. "Do you see it?" she asked. "Yes! Yes!" we lied. Apparently the Pomegranate people lie too. "We cannot help you unless you have the original receipt (on a decade's old phone) or the passcode," Pomegranate person stated. "That's the problem," Cee-Cee said, "We don't know the passcode." "Then you need the original receipt," Pee-Pee answered. "We don't have the receipt." "Then you need the ..." Arrrgggghhh!!! Who's on first? What's on second? And who would even want a decade's old phone with only 8 mega-whoosits of ram memory nuclear power capability with internal drive centrifuge? I guess if the Pomegranate people are unwilling to assist federal agencies, even in the matter of terrorist attacks, why would they even consider helping us? Thank goodness that Pomegranate is so careful with my right to privacy...I wouldn't want my information exposed to data-collecting agencies or anything like that.

We stormed out of the Pomegranate store vowing never to return and headed to the nearby Horizon store who listened to our sad tale of woe, agreed that Pomegranates are rotten, and set about making Sydney's original phone operational again. "Better this phone than no phone," she muttered, jabbing more pins into her tiny Mom doll. "Hmmm...that's funny," I said, "My phone doesn't have a signal." Cue music signaling impending doom.