So, my latest indulgence was a Blackberry Curve.
Do I love it, yes. The calendar is fantastic for organizing all my dates and points of interest. The phone book is endless for my never-ending contact list, the camera is of high quality and web browsing is soooo easy.
The best part is that I can fire off a 500-word text message no prob, thanks to the itty bitty keys on the Qwerty board.
The worst part?
The huge crack marring the screen.
I really don't know how it got there, but I'm convinced that somebody snuck in my purse, stole my phone and smashed it against a corner. That's the only logical explanation I can come up with.
This phone isn't even two weeks old. The box is still sitting on my bed, the factory rebate is still in Cingular la-la land. I don't even know how to use the search feature yet, and it's already broken.
The first day I got the damn thing, I was showing it off to dad: "How much was it?" he asks (the first logical question.)
"Uh, three hundred something," I said, downplaying the cost.
"For a phone?!"
I pointed out that it had an address book, word processor, note pad, camera, video, and lots of room for pirated MP3's and I could access the internet whenever I wanted.
"Well, the way I see it, you use a phone to make calls," he said.
You can always count on my dad for words of wisdom.
Now I feel stupid having to find a way to fix a phone that's already costed me $390 for the device and that's padded my bill by an extra $39.99 a month.
Let's just say, I've learned my lesson. I am waaaaaaay to irresponsible slash clumsy for expensive toys.
A phone is a phone is a phone. I don't even use the calendar, the music player, the GPS, any of it.
Do I love it, yes. The calendar is fantastic for organizing all my dates and points of interest. The phone book is endless for my never-ending contact list, the camera is of high quality and web browsing is soooo easy.
The best part is that I can fire off a 500-word text message no prob, thanks to the itty bitty keys on the Qwerty board.
The worst part?
The huge crack marring the screen.
I really don't know how it got there, but I'm convinced that somebody snuck in my purse, stole my phone and smashed it against a corner. That's the only logical explanation I can come up with.
This phone isn't even two weeks old. The box is still sitting on my bed, the factory rebate is still in Cingular la-la land. I don't even know how to use the search feature yet, and it's already broken.
The first day I got the damn thing, I was showing it off to dad: "How much was it?" he asks (the first logical question.)
"Uh, three hundred something," I said, downplaying the cost.
"For a phone?!"
I pointed out that it had an address book, word processor, note pad, camera, video, and lots of room for pirated MP3's and I could access the internet whenever I wanted.
"Well, the way I see it, you use a phone to make calls," he said.
You can always count on my dad for words of wisdom.
Now I feel stupid having to find a way to fix a phone that's already costed me $390 for the device and that's padded my bill by an extra $39.99 a month.
Let's just say, I've learned my lesson. I am waaaaaaay to irresponsible slash clumsy for expensive toys.
A phone is a phone is a phone. I don't even use the calendar, the music player, the GPS, any of it.